


Something Less Ordinary

by blythechild



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Absence, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Drug Use, Drunkenness, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hotel Sex, Hotels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Phone Calls & Telephones, Romantic Friendship, Secret Relationship, Separations, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after Reid voluntarily leaves the F.B.I., Hotch discovers that Diana Reid is dead and he must find his former colleague and friend in hopes of setting a few things right.</p><p> </p><p>This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. This story contains graphic sexual situations, discussion of drug use, adult concepts and language - it should not be read by those under the age of 18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came from a song drabble that I wrote a year ago for "10 Drabbles For 10 Songs In 20 Minutes". The first chapter of this story is lifted wholly from that original drabble - I haven't changed anything about it.
> 
> This story is a shameless 'shipper hurt/comfort effort, so if that isn't your thing, you should probably stop reading now. Just sayin'...

Hotch answers the door and finds Reid on his doorstep.

“Reid.” He is instantly nervous. “Is something wrong?”

“Hi.” Reid waves awkwardly. “Sorry to bother you so late but I needed to drop this off.”

Reid hands him an envelope.

“This couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

“I think that it’s best to do it now.” Reid’s expression is strangely neutral. He’s normally very expressive.

Hotch opens the letter, makes it halfway through and then glares at Reid.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s time, Hotch.” Intense sadness leaks from behind Reid’s neutral mask and Hotch’s stomach suddenly threatens to expose his emotions right there on his front stoop.

Hotch looks down at the letter again because he doesn’t know where else to look. _I hereby tender my resignation from the Federal Bureau of Investigation…_

Footsteps patter behind him in the house. “Hi, Uncle Spence!”

“Hi, Jack.”

“Whatcha doin’ here? We already had dinner. Did you come here to tell me a story?” Jack looks up at his father, his eyes alight with joy. “Can Uncle Spence read me a story, Dad?”

“No, Jack.” Hotch’s throats closes up.

“Some other time, okay, Jack?” Reid lies to his son effortlessly. Hotch knows that Reid will never come to his house again. “Maybe you can get your dad to have another bar-be-que and have everyone over. Remember how much fun we had the last time?”

“Yeah!” Jack looks back at his dad. “Can we do that Dad?”

“Sure thing, pal. Sounds good.” He forces a smile. “How about you go get ready for bed and pick out a story, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.”

Jack scampers back inside. Hotch turns to Reid and doesn’t bother to hide the shock and betrayal any longer. 

“Don’t do this, Spencer.”

“I’m freeing you, Aaron. Look at everything you have.” He gestures vaguely towards the house. “A home, a son, your position at the Bureau… you have a lot to lose. You’re not ready to risk any of it. I don’t think that you ever will be. I can go anywhere, do anything…”

“Yes, well, we don’t all have the luxury of being coveted…” The bitterness shocks him.

“Aaron, please – don’t deflect.” Reid seems alarmingly in control. “We’ve never discussed this, never even admitted to it before tonight… I was half expecting you to give me the ‘we’ll miss you but I understand’ speech and a farewell chuck on the shoulder.”

“But part of you was expecting _exactly this_ …”

“Which is why I did this away from the office and all of the watchful eyes there.”

The final token of consideration blindsides Hotch and he is overcome by all of the time that he had, and didn’t use. How could Reid betray him when he betrayed Reid first?

The silence stretches out awkwardly until Reid takes the situation in hand. “I’ll finish out my case load and then I’m gone. It’ll probably be a week, 10 days maximum. That’ll give me time to make my good-byes as well…”

_A week! God, I just need more time…_

“Where will you go?” Hotch croaks.

“I don’t know yet. D.C. for now, but Cal Tech has offered me a position… I might go back to Las Vegas to be closer to my mom…” He looks at Hotch and his face softens a fraction. “I’m not leaving the planet. You’ll be able to find me if you ever need me.”

 _If I ever need him…_ Reid reaches out and squeezes Hotch’s arm. “Good-bye, Aaron.”

Hotch lets him get halfway down the driveway before he calls out his name. He’s right behind Reid as he turns and crushes him to his chest pinning him there with his arms. He hasn’t held Reid this way since his kidnapping, back when Hotch was married and it was just professional concern for a colleague. That’s what he always told himself.

They stand in the driveway frozen in the first and last acknowledgment of what they could have had. When Reid pulls back, there are tears in his eyes. He has already said his good-bye so he just stands there and let’s Hotch hold his face in his hands.

“Good-bye, Spencer.” Hotch closes his eyes to prevent the tears and to hide the shame of knowing that the only thing preventing him from happiness is himself. Reid slips from his arms and walks away. Hotch watches him until he turns the corner at the end of the block and disappears. Reid never looks back.


	2. Chapter 2

A YEAR LATER

Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk and he saw J.J.’s extension show up on the call display.

“Hi J.J. What’s up?”

“Hotch, I’ve got someone calling for Reid on the other line…”

His whole body stiffened at the name. It was just insane that he still hadn’t mastered his reaction to it yet. 

“Just give them the standard line, J.J.” He was irritated that she had bothered him with this. “Dr. Reid no longer works for the FBI. Submit all consult request through the established channels…”

“Hotch, he says that it concerns Diana Reid.”

“Is he from Bennington?”

“I think so.”

He paused. Why didn’t the Bennington staff know how to contact Reid directly?

“Okay, put him through J.J. I’ll take care of it.”

The connection went dead for an instant and then Hotch heard a distinctive change in atmosphere, as if he was passing through time zones and climate changes to connect with this unseen voice.

“This is S.S.A. Hotchner.”

“This is David Fischer at Bennington House. I’m trying to contact Dr. Reid - his office extension sent me back to the main switchboard.”

“Dr. Reid no longer works for the FBI, Mr. Fischer. Is there an issue with his mother?”

“Ahhh… is there another number that I may reach him by?”

“You don’t have a personal number on file for him?”

“It keeps going to voicemail. I need to speak with him. The matter is pressing.”

“Is Diana Reid all right?”

“Agent Hotchner… I’m not really permitted to-”

“Mr. Fischer, I was Dr. Reid’s boss for many years… he is my friend…”

It cost him a lot to say the words - words that hadn’t been true for a long time.

“Diana Reid died a week ago. It was a massive stroke.”

Hotch leaned forward in his chair, his fingers digging into his desk blotter.

“We contacted Dr. Reid and made arrangements to have her body sent to his choice of funeral home, but he hasn’t made any further contact regarding her personal effects. I hate to say this, Agent Hotchner, but Bennington House has a lengthy waiting list and we need Mrs. Reid’s room…”

Hotch ripped the receiver from his ear and made as if he was going to smash it into his desk. He stayed his hand just above the polished wood surface and watched it tremble there. _Dammit Reid, why didn’t you call?_ His body hardened into a solid mass of urgency. He felt his pulse screaming in his ears and hammering against his wrists and throat. He needed to move or he’d explode. He needed to go towards him… A plan formulated itself faster than thought.

“Mr. Fischer, give me the name of the funeral home.”

…

Hotch ducked his head into Garcia’s tech cave to find her chatting with Kevin. Another irritant he didn’t have the luxury to work around.

“Kevin, don’t you have your own work station?”

Kevin and Garcia whirled to face him with identical shocked looks on their faces.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Then why do I so often find you here?”

“I-I dunno, sir.”

“What you two do on your own time is your own business, but you ought to keep a discreet distance during work hours.”

“Yes sir.”

Kevin rose without meeting Hotch’s eyes and brushed past him and out into the bullpen faster than Hotch had ever witnessed before. He looked back at Garcia and was instantly ashamed of his brusqueness; he genuinely liked her and knew that she would take his curt words to heart. It wasn’t her fault that he was in turmoil right now over another person that he cared about whom he had treated with similar callousness.

“Sir, I’m sorry, we-”

“Nevermind, Garcia. It’s done.” He waved his hand and stepped into her office. “I need you to do something for me immediately. I need you to locate Reid.”

Garcia’s eyes widened behind her thick, pink-rimmed glasses. “O-Okay… does he still have his phone? That would be the easiest way…”

“Not his FBI one, no. He returned it when he quit. But try this one.” Hotch fished a scrap of paper from his suit jacket. “He might be in Vegas.”

“Sir, is everything all right? Is Reid…”

“He’s not in trouble, Garcia, and this isn’t in relation to a case. I just need to find him right now.”

“Okay, that I can do. But, if his phone is turned off… and his old car doesn’t have GPS… I may have to get creative.”

“I don’t care how you do it, I just need to find him. And then I need you to get me the quickest commercial flight to wherever he is. I’ll need you to monitor his movements as best you can and keep me updated.”

“Consider it done, but… sir?” She looked up at him, her usual brightness tied down with tight bands of worry. “You tell me that he’s not in trouble, but this really _feels_ like trouble to me, and you’re not doing this with the team, and it’s been so long since any of us heard from him, and-”

“Penelope,” Hotch reached for her hands and held her still for a moment. “I can’t tell you what this is about, and I’m going to have to ask you to keep this to yourself until I get back. But I can tell you that I’m trying to look out for him. When I find him, I’ll know more. In the meantime, I’m going to ask you to trust me.”

“I do, sir.” She whispered. “I’ll get you what you need. You just bring him home to us.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll update you when I have a location.”

Hotch nodded and headed for the door. He hesitated for a moment and then turned back again.

“Garcia?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Tell Kevin that I’m sorry for how I spoke to him earlier.”

He left before she had a chance to respond.


	3. Chapter 3

Hotch stepped out of the rental car and into the scorching Vegas summer heat. Everywhere were the sounds of air conditioning units on high and the endless drone of traffic being funneled from every known direction towards the garish strip at the city’s heart. After the almost zen-like silence of the climate controlled car, he imagined that he could hear the asphalt searing the soles of his shoes as he walked across the parking lot towards the motel office. He always thought of Vegas as a modern interpretation of hell on earth, and that image always made him sad to think that for much of Reid’s life, this place was all that he had known. 

The motel manager was what you would expect from any number of movies or bad TV shows. His disinterest was so complete that he was one step above qualifying as a reanimated corpse. Hotch knocked his official ID on the Plexiglas window to get his attention.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” The full title usually got him what he was looking for faster with these zombie types. “I need to know which room Spencer Reid checked into.”

“Don’t you need a warrant or something?”

“No.” Hotch fixed him with a stare that promised the manager what would happen to him if he made Hotch produce any paperwork on the matter.

“Oooookaaaaaaaay…” The manager huffed and keyed something into his antique computer. “Yeah, he’s in room 1216, but he ain’t there now. He leaves every morning and doesn’t come back ‘til dark. You can set yer watch by the skinny bugger.”

“Do you know where he goes?”

“No. Why would I?”

_Great._

“Thank you.” Hotch growled.

“He had me arrange some flowers to be sent somewhere though. Paid me $50 to do it.”

“Where did you send the flowers?”

“Mount Pleasant Cemetery. It’s out in Summerlin.”

Hotch turned away and headed back out into the heat towards his car. He entered the cemetery name into his phone’s GPS and started planning what he’d say when he got there. Mostly, he just wanted to know what Reid was thinking by electing to stand guard for the dead and remaining here in hell.

…

Mount Pleasant Cemetery’s cremation vault was mercifully air conditioned and did live up to the word ‘pleasant’. The vault consisted of a long wall of light coloured marble that held thousands of powdered remains neatly and discreetly behind brass plaques of remembrance. The vault’s roof was a modern design of skylights that filtered the southern sun indirectly into the chamber below making the marble glow. The other walls were glass that looked out over the sprawling manicured lawns of the burial grounds. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to end up.

Hotch was fond of cemeteries despite how prominently they figured in his adult life. Cemeteries were neat, quiet places and he always appreciated the stillness of them. It seemed a shame that people placed so much effort into their creation and maintenance given that their occupants were beyond caring. He wondered why humans didn’t put as much effort into the surroundings of life as they did death. He often thought we’d be better off as a species if we did. Maybe he’d be able to take a vacation as a result. Or retire…

Hotch found Reid at the far end of the vault, standing in front of a new plaque halfway up the marble wall. Hotch had to pass several other mourners before he reached his destination. He mumbled pardons and condolences as he passed them, but when he reached Reid he couldn’t think of anything to say. Reid stood silently and seemingly unaware that he was being watched. Hotch felt as if his heartbeat were visible, pushing noticeably in and out against his skin as he waited for Reid to see him.

Reid seemed to have become thinner, more angular in the year since Hotch had last seen him. _It just isn’t possible for him to have gotten any skinnier - it’s a trick of the mind…_ The smudges beneath his eyes had grown so dark as to resemble fresh bruises. His non-expression hung from his forehead, cheekbones, and jaw line like something tossed away and left where it landed. The long fingers of one hand pressed against his lips as if he was pondering some secret that lay just beyond the marble wall. 

He was dressed in a black suit, a dark blue shirt highlighting how pale he was by comparison. Hotch couldn’t ever remember if he had seen Reid wear black - not even at Haley’s funeral. The sudden thought brought a memory back to Hotch. After the burial Reid had approached him during a lull in the endless line of condolences, his eyes glassy and full with things he would never say. He said Hotch’s name and took his hand in between his own and the two men just stared at one another. It was the most eloquent and touching expression of sorrow that Hotch received that day, and it nearly brought him to the brink right there in the middle of everything. Eventually, Reid let him go and left without a word. They never spoke of it afterwards.

Now that man stood before him abandoned in his own world of loss just as Hotch had been. He remembered how the fog had lifted that day, if only for a few moments, when Reid stood with him. He remembered how that clarifying moment showed him that he couldn’t retreat into a cocoon of grief. Living with loss is painful, but he had to keep going for Jack. Reid had said nothing, but somehow reminded him of that fact. Perhaps without even realizing it, the younger man had saved his life that day. It was time to return the favor.

“Reid.” He whispered.

At first nothing happened. Then the thin figure turned to respond to his name. His face remained expressionless for a long minute and then like a light being switched on, recognition animated it.

“Hotch?” He stretched out the sound as if he hadn’t said the name in a long time and needed to remember what it felt like. The action sliced Hotch unexpectedly and deeply. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone from Bennington called the Bureau looking for you.”

“Oh.” Reid didn’t seem to be processing anything and it worried Hotch. But a moment later, he watched as a question crossed the younger man’s face. “How did you-”

“Garcia.”

Reid smiled for an instant and nodded. Hotch’s pulse eased up at bit at the sight of it only to accelerate once again as he watched it slip away under the mask of helplessness.

“Reid…” Hotch tried again and more urgently.

Reid looked up and seemed surprised to see Hotch still there, as if he had lost track of time. “Thank you for coming. It was a long trip, I know…”

Hotch stepped up to the younger man and grabbed his hand dragging it away from his face. He wrapped the long fingers in his own. _He’s so cold._

“Spencer, have you been coming here every day?”

Reid seemed to wake a little at the contact and focused on Hotch’s face for the first time. Something sparked in his eyes and he drew in a shocked breath.

“What day is it?” He whispered.

_Oh Jesus…_

Hotch stepped into Reid and stared him down. When he spoke again he made sure that no one else would overhear them. “Are you high?”

“No.” Reid stared back at Hotch and after a tense moment, Hotch knew it to be the truth. “But trust me, if I had the energy to go out and score, I would be.”

“Spencer…” Hotch squeezed his hand.

“I’m still not clear on why you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here? I care about you.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from you in a year, Hotch.”

“That wasn’t my decision, was it?” He hated how sharp the words felt in his mouth.

“I left to get away from this. You aren’t helping me.”

His words were blasé but they stung and Hotch let go of him by reflex. He knew what Reid was doing and found himself amazed that even in his half-conscious state of grief, the young man was managing to be remarkably effective. _Not today, Reid. I won’t be pushed away today…_

“Things need to be cleared up at Bennington. I’m going to help you do that.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Really? Have you looked at yourself lately?” Hotch reached out and turned Reid’s face to look at him. “When was the last time you ate?”

Reid sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“Then that’s the first thing we’re doing. C’mon.”

Hotch wrapped an arm around Reid’s shoulders and pushed him towards the vault’s exit. He did it because he knew that Reid would need to be physically coaxed into leaving. But he also allowed himself the small pleasure of feeling the man next to him, even if it had to be masked as coercion.


	4. Chapter 4

Hotch sat back and watched Reid slowly work his way through a Porter House steak. He had insisted on something with red meat stating that Reid seemed to be dangerously close to anemia. He watched Reid handle his utensils with care and precision as if their operation were new to him, and he wondered how long the younger man had been sliding down into depression. It didn’t seem like something that he would indulge in. His addiction was one thing, but even when he was in the grip of it, he had maintained an active role in the BAU and had kept up with all of his side projects… Was the loss of his profiler identity causing this sort of damage? Hotch felt overwhelmingly selfish that his own discomfort had cost this talented man the fire of his motivation. If it were true, Hotch would have to find a way to set it right. His career wasn’t worth another man’s life, and the way he felt about this other man wouldn’t allow him to extinguish his light either.

Hotch reached forward and refilled Reid’s wine glass halfway, then filled his own.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Reid asked.

“Red wine is good for the heart, in moderation.”

“You would know I guess. Still doing those triathlons?”

“Yes. I did the D.C. one this past spring and had my best overall time yet.”

“Hmmm.” Reid smiled and seemed genuinely pleased. “That’s good.”

They became silent again for a while, and Hotch fell into watching Reid in the minutest ways. The restaurant was crowded and warm so Reid removed his jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves. As he arranged his utensils on the half empty plate and pushed it away from him, Hotch saw the track marks. They were healed, but newer than the old ones that Reid had been sporting for years. Reid sighed, drawing Hotch’s eyes upward.

“Just ask.”

“When did that start again?”

“Six months ago. I went to meetings. It stopped.”

“Is it because of…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“It’s because of a lot of things, Hotch. It’s because I’m an addict and because we never fully heal. I have bad days.”

“I should’ve been there for you after Hankel.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything that happened in the last year.” Reid’s voice was tight and Hotch knew that he was walking a fine line discussing his addiction.

“I never expected to see you this way.”

“What way is that?” Reid challenged.

“So… defeated.” Hotch sighed.

“Screw you, Aaron.” Reid tossed his napkin onto the table and made to leave. “Thanks for the meal.”

Hotch reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. His hand made it all the way around the joint easily and that inexplicably frightened him.

“Reid, stop - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way…”

“You didn’t mean to _sound_ like you’re surprised to see me fall apart, or you’re sorry that your hale and hearty appearance highlights just how much of a basketcase I’ve become since we said good-bye to one another?”

“Spencer, please. _Please_ … stay.”

Reid huffed and slumped back into the banquette across from Hotch. He reached for his glass of wine and took a liberal swig.

“This is humiliating for me. I hope you know that.”

“Humiliating? Why?”

“Look at you! You’re exactly the same as you were a year ago. Nothing’s changed. I knew that you’d never change who you were, but I guess that I kinda hoped that my absence might have some sort of effect on you. But you’re still out there chasing killers and running marathons…”

“You would’ve been happier to see me fall apart?”

Reid gave him a cold look and sipped at his wine. The younger man sized him up and then let out a deep sigh.

“No. I never wanted that. I gave up everything so that wouldn’t happen to you. My work, my friends, my family… It would be a poor return on my investment if you disintegrated because of it. It’s just… hard to be happy for you at this exact moment, that’s all.”

That knocked the wind right out of Hotch. His fingers gripped the sides of the table as if he’d float away if he let go. He couldn’t look Reid in the eye - it would be too much to handle seeing the confirmation of his fears there, staring back at him.

“It’s not…” He whispered. “I can’t give in. I-I didn’t want…”

He felt Reid’s hand cover one of his as the man’s long fingers pried his own out of the wood surface. “Stop it. I already know all of this about you.”

“You don’t know everything.” He shot back and received a confused look from Reid in return. 

Hotch took a series of bracing breaths until he was certain that he could speak again in an even tone.

“When Haley died, I was like you were today. I managed but everything seemed like smoke around me. Nothing was important enough any longer to be real. You came to me, do you remember?”

Reid nodded.

“You took my hand and I saw you clearly. It was the first thing that made any impact on me in… weeks, maybe even months. It’s hard to know how long the world had been dimming around me since she left, or after Foyet attacked me…” 

Hotch paused and took a sip of wine. His heart was pounding strong enough to make swallowing problematic.

“I _saw_ you and I knew that I had to come back. I had to be present no matter how painful it was going to be. Seeing your face in that moment, I felt like I could manage it.”

He looked up and met Reid’s eyes.

“I know what she meant to you. I know how orphaned you feel. But you have to face it because if you allow yourself to float away like a balloon with a cut string, I won’t be able to stop the disintegration that you think I’ve managed so well.”

Reid just stared at Hotch. There was no sharp retort, no micro expression, and no nervous hand gestures; he had turned himself into a blank slate. Hotch was desperate for something, any kind of reaction that would tell him how to proceed but Reid gave nothing away. He stared at the dark eyes and the deep shadows beneath them that spoke loudly about things that the other man wouldn’t share with him. _Why didn’t you reach out, Reid? Why didn’t I?_

“How is everything here, gentlemen?”

The waitress’s voice snapped him out of himself. Her tone was polite but when he looked at her, she seemed embarrassed for him.

“We’re done. If we could have the bill, please?” Hotch cleared his throat.

He paid quickly and they both left the restaurant without looking at one another. The trip back to Reid’s motel was a silent one. Hotch walked Reid to his door and then stopped while the other man fumbled with the key card.

“I’m going to go down to the office and check into a room.” Hotch said. He hadn’t had time to do so before and now he wondered if it was a good idea. However, the thought of seeking out a different hotel, just to be separate from Reid, seemed a bit childish.

Reid unlocked his door, walked in, and left it open behind him. He didn’t look back or say a word. Hotch stood at the threshold, his brow creased with frustration and his hands clenched. He could shut the door on Reid or he could walk inside. At least he was given a choice this time. 

He walked through.

Reid was sitting on the edge of one of the beds in the room, his long arms dangling from where they rested on his knees with a distant look in his eyes. This was not seduction. It was something bone-deep and worn that was just one step away from total absence. This sort of void took time to cultivate; it took ages to wear down an individual’s natural instinct to fight back. Diana had only been gone a week. What sat in the shell of Spencer Reid in a crappy motel on the Vegas strip was much older than that; Diana’s death had just given it the last push it needed to break the levees. 

Hotch sighed putting his discomfort aside for the moment. This was about them and it wasn’t. The immediate problem was his friend’s devastation - the factors that precipitated that devastation could be dealt with later, he told himself. Hotch was all about prioritizing. When you strip away a person’s support system, his friends, and his purpose, what remains of his identity? _That_ is what he had done to Reid by volunteering to take no action between them and forcing the younger man to sacrifice everything. Hotch still had his career, he still had his family, his friends, and his reputation. Reid was right: he hadn’t changed at all. His stomach rioted as a wave of guilt slammed into him. He gracelessly slumped into a chair opposite Reid’s bed and waited for the feeling to subside. 

“I told her about everything. Even about you over the years.” Reid’s voice was barely above a whisper and though he included Hotch in the conversation, he seemed to be speaking to himself. “But I don’t think that I knew her. I just knew her disease.”

“I don’t believe that. You two were all the each other had.”

“Until I had her committed.”

“She couldn’t care for herself. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I appear to make a lot of choices for someone who seems to have so few options.” Reid smirked miserably and looked at Hotch for the first time. That stung a bit. 

“I made her what she was. It seems the least I could’ve done was try and set that right before she died. Did you know that when I was a boy I thought I’d cure schizophrenia by the time I turned twenty-five?”

Hotch’s anger flared. He detested self-pity especially in a man smart enough to know better. “You didn’t make her mentally ill. She was like that long before you showed up.”

“A woman’s biochemistry is irrevocable altered by pregnancy.” Reid sat up in a half-hearted challenge. “My mother’s condition was manageable prior to having me. She responded well to her medications and maintained a marriage, friendships and a rewarding teaching career. After my first year when she returned to her pharmaceutical regimen, the drugs ceased being effective. Her delusions intensified and her mood shifts became barely controllable. William couldn’t deal with her…”

Reid always referred to his father by his Christian name - never ‘dad’. His abandonment issues were such obvious triggers that Hotch had often wondered over the years whether what he sensed from Reid was just the desire to have an older male support in his life, instead of emotional attraction. Depending how Hotch felt when he considered these options, he had made convincing arguments for both outcomes.

Reid’s voice was clear and fast, and his eyes glittered with absolute presence within the moment. It was the most animated that Hotch had seen him since arriving in Vegas. He realized that if he was going to keep Reid here, he was going to have to engage him in a way that would activate strong and perhaps ugly emotions. 

“I _made_ her what she became, and in the end I wasn’t strong enough to live up to that responsibility. I sent her away to be warehoused until she died.”

“But she wanted you _so much_ , Reid.” Hotch leaned forward so that their knees almost touched. “Perhaps having a child ensured that she’d never be well again but that’s hardly your fault. You didn’t ask her to make that sacrifice. And I dare say that Diana was smart enough to understand the tremendous risk that she was taking. Her love for you was obvious. In the brief time that I spent with her, her only real moments of clarity and conviction were when she was with you. _You_ were her reality, Reid.”

Reid blinked and looked away but Hotch reached out for his hand to draw back his focus. _You can’t retreat, Reid. You need to face it._

“Haley and I tried for years to have a child before Jack. Several doctors told us that it wasn’t possible. I started talking about adoption but Haley wouldn’t hear it - she wanted _our_ child. Nothing would distract her from it. The day that Jack was born changed her forever. No matter how much we failed as a couple or…”

Hotch stumbled and then paused, clearing his throat.

“Or how it all ended, I don’t think that she would’ve changed it because of what she gained from it. I felt it too the first time I held Jack… _nothing_ is as powerful as attaining that which you most hoped for, but is always just out of reach.”

Hotch squeezed Reid’s hand. He hadn’t noticed that his other hand had joined the first.

“Diana wanted you more than she wanted to be well. I’d like to think that she was unafraid when she made that choice - that she was as uncompromising in her commitment to it as Haley was to Jack. And even if you hadn’t turned out as remarkably as you did, I don’t think that she could have loved you more. You were everything that she hoped you’d be: rare, generous, principled… It seemed to me that she had no regrets.”

Hotch was now balanced on the edge of his chair, his knees touching Reid’s as he held the man’s hand in a vice-like grip. He stared at Reid as he would a suspect that he was bracing for information. He knew that it was a terrifying look but it also focused the younger man’s attention and he needed for Reid to really hear him.

“Don’t devalue her choice with useless hand-wringing over an outcome that you were unable to alter. Some things are not ours to fix.” He took a deep breath. What he said next wasn’t really about Diana Reid. “She couldn’t help being who she was and I’ll bet that she’d be devastated to see what her love is doing to you.”

Reid’s eyes were glassy and it wasn’t long before a tear slid down his cheek. He didn’t acknowledge it or brush it away. _See, Aaron? A real man doesn’t care if someone sees him cry. A real man feels things._

“I don’t want to feel this.” Reid whispered.

“I know.” 

Hotch found himself wiping away the track of Reid’s tear. He tried to keep his face stoic but felt the mask slipping as he looked at his friend. The vicarious distress he felt was almost too much to handle and it was eroding things in him that he thought were permanent fixtures of his psyche. He had a profound urge to lash out at the things that brought Reid to this predicament even though the lion’s share of responsibility lay with him. 

Once Jack had come home from day care with a cut on his face where another boy had struck him to reclaim a toy. Hotch had lodged a complaint, but he had wanted to find the child and put him in such a state of fear as to leave a permanent impression on him. In the end, Jack showed his father up and befriended the boy, unwilling to write him off as a bully. Hotch had never been so proud of his son or so ashamed of himself as he was that day. Once again he was overcome with the need to punish a victimizer, and ashamed that the bully he had to face down was himself.

“Avoidance is part of the grieving process.” Hotch mumbled trying to pull him back from his over analysis.

“I wasn’t talking about my mom.” Reid answered.

Hotch watched as Reid read his face. His eyes flicked down to Hotch’s lips and then back. Hotch knew what was coming and Reid gave him ample time to avoid it, but the older man remained still. Reid leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was hesitant and sweet - not at all what Hotch had expected. It was impossible to find the gesture offensive. Inexplicably Hotch’s anger rose again. He was conflicted between his offense at being kissed like a virginal debutante and being kissed at all. Part of him wanted nothing to do with this, hearing the accelerated crumbling of his carefully planned identity rumbling throughout him. Another part of him wanted Reid to bruise and scar and scorch him with his lips, and everything that they promised he could have.

Reid pulled away warily eyeing Hotch’s reaction. He seemed to be expecting a violent response, which incensed Hotch even further. He wasn’t a homophobe. He couldn't care less about who did what to whom in general. But he cared very much about the specifics of _this_ kiss. He cared about what it said. He cared about the consequences. And, if it was going to be done at all, he cared very much about doing it right.

In one move, Hotch slid off the chair to his knees in front of Reid and took his face in both hands as he pulled the younger man in. Their lips met with much more conviction this time. Hotch pulled at Reid’s lips until they parted. Reid’s hand grabbed the back of Hotch’s neck and yanked him closer as their tongues slid against one another. This was more like it. Hotch pushed himself between Reid’s knees to get closer and roughly ran one hand through the other man’s hair evoking a deep, satisfied moan. A piercing shot of excitement lanced through Hotch from groin to cranium and he found himself clutching at Reid to bring him nearer, to have more of him. Reid sucked on Hotch’s lip and then bit down hard producing a yelp that stretched out into a long moan as Reid sucked away the sting afterwards. Hotch felt Reid smile against his lips and was amazed at how pleased he was by that small reaction.

Reid slid off the bed so that they were both on their knees and at the same height. The equality allowed them to get as close as possible and another surge swept through Hotch as he felt the full length of Reid’s body pressed against him. Their mouths continued assaulting one another while Reid’s hands roamed. Dexterous fingers plucked at Hotch’s shirt. He shook his head against Reid but was distracted by his tongue. A thigh wedged itself between Hotch’s legs making him groan. Then hands slid in between them and yanked on his belt. 

“No.” Hotch growled.

Reid let out something that sounded like an exasperated huff and went back to pulling Hotch’s shirt. Hotch pressed back so hard on Reid that the younger man had to break away to catch his breath. They continued fumbling and pushing against one another both at a temporary standstill due to Hotch’s confusing signals. He was overcome at finally having Reid in his arms and to be able to live out what had been, up until this moment, masturbatory fantasies. How many times had Reid’s image been the thing that pushed his self abuse into the realm of blissful relief? How often in the last days of his fading marriage had he only been able to come to Haley’s bed if he had prepared himself by imagining something with Reid beforehand? And in all of those years, there hadn’t been so much as an inappropriate comment or gesture between the two men. Even after the Hankel case, or the Hardwick interview, or the Dowd showdown… after all of those cases when all Hotch wanted was to be comforted by _this one person_ , but instead locked that desire away telling himself that his life would do as is… To have it break open here when Reid was hopelessly vulnerable seemed like a violation. 

Reid, oblivious to Hotch’s internal turmoil, was sucking his way down Hotch’s neck. One last time his hands reached Hotch’s belt… 

“I said NO!” Hotch grabbed Reid’s wrists and yanked his hands away from him, and then shoved the younger man away entirely.

“Aaron, what the…” Reid’s tone was half confusion, half anger.

Hotch quickly rose to his feet and backed away from Reid’s hooded glare of frustration.

“I can’t… I can’t.”

“You just _were_ , Aaron!” Reid stood as well and came towards Hotch, angrier than the other man had ever seen him before. “You’re pitching a tent that could be seen from space!”

Hotch backed up until he ran out of floor space. He slammed into the hotel wall and watched as Reid closed the distance between them. The younger man pinned him to the wall and let his hurt crash into Hotch point blank.

“At first, it was Haley. Then, it was Foyet. After that it was concern for Jack and putting the team back together again. Throughout everything there was the taboo of being my superior and damaging the delicate unit dynamics…” Reid leaned in menacingly. “But tell me, Aaron, what the hell is holding you from me now?”

“I’m… not interested in fucking you, Reid.”

Reid ground his pelvis against Hotch’s - hard. And it proved him to be a liar.

“How many times have you thought about this over the years? I could tell you _exactly_ how many times I have and could recount each instance with absolute clarity. Do you have any idea what it’s like to live like that?” Reid’s mouth bit out the words bitterly and then he sighed, leaning his forehead in to brush Hotch’s. “And after seven years of… of _this_ … it wouldn’t be fucking, Aaron. We both know that.”

“I don’t want this, Reid. I mean… yes, I could be with you now… here, in these extraordinary circumstances and outside of our real lives. But, like you said: it wouldn’t be fucking. It wouldn’t be two people just meeting a temporary need in the night.”

Hotch’s voice softened as he watched Reid’s anger burn away under his words. The other man’s exhaustion and loneliness remained and it made the next words that much harder to get out.

“How would we be able to go back to our separate lives afterward? How could we allow ourselves to feel all of this knowing that it could only exist here?”

Reid stepped back as if Hotch had slapped him. He knew what Reid was thinking: _why could it only exist here?_ Hotch grimaced and swallowed back the bile that was inching up his throat. How could he explain that the only reason that he wouldn’t allow Reid into his life was fear? Fear of ridicule, fear of being inadequate, fear of trying and failing at another serious relationship, fear of how suddenly having a gay dad would effect Jack, fear of Reid losing interest once the initial newness wore off… what if the tease would be more than the reality could live up to?

“I’m sorry, Reid…”

Reid looked back at him, his expression flickering between devastation and rage. He stormed back towards Hotch, slammed him into the wall and kissed him as if his body was a weapon. Hotch was shocked at how strong Reid was considering his emaciated condition. He tried to kiss back - or fight back, he wasn’t certain what Reid was going for - but the younger man pulled away first with a cold smile on his face. Then Hotch heard the click of handcuffs locking into place. Hotch yanked his hands forward but found that his right was now locked securely to the room’s radiator. _Dammit… magician’s hands…_

Reid backed away and slowly dropped the keys to Hotch’s cuffs into his pocket. The haunted look that he had seen in Reid earlier returned and he couldn’t tell whether it or being restrained frightened him more.

“Reid, uncuff me!”

Reid headed for the door. 

“Fuck you, Aaron.” He said quietly.

“Reid, don’t! Please don’t…”

“What I do or do not do to myself is no longer your concern, Hotch. I have confidence that you’ll figure a way out of those cuffs shortly. Don’t be here when I get back.”

Reid slammed the door behind him leaving Hotch yanking futilely on the radiator.

“Fuck, fuck… FUCK!” Hotch scanned the room setting his mind to the task of freeing himself. He tried not to listen to the voice inside him that was wondering how he could have screwed this up so completely.


	5. Chapter 5

Four hours on the streets of Vegas had shown Hotch more about despair than he could usually handle in one sitting. Flop houses and low-rent hookers and dealers hawking their wares out in the open… the lost were everywhere and yet how often had he sat with the parents of runaways or dead junkies who claimed that they would’ve stopped it if they’d only seen it coming. Every sunken face, every covetous glance, every grasping hand once had a family or a friend who wondered about them. Every one had been loved once - if only for an instant - before they were lost. What made so many people give up on one another? He saw reflections of Reid in every alley and every suspicious glare. It amped him up so quickly that he thought that he might resort to shooting people if it got him results any quicker. But the hours ticked by and he found nothing. This was Reid’s town; he surely knew how to hide in it.

Hotch sat in the dark of Reid’s crappy room and waited. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that Reid wouldn’t return. He forcibly pushed the image of Reid face up in a shooting gallery, his eyes wide and dead with a spent needle still in his hand from his thoughts. Reid was _not lost_. Hotch had pushed him away but he wasn’t prepared to give him up to the legions of the forgotten that he’d witnessed tonight. God help him, Reid was _still_ loved.

The door slammed open and Hotch sat up at full alert as he watched the thin silhouette leaning against the doorframe hesitate and then stumble into the darkened room. His hand swiped at the knob a few times before connecting, and then he slammed the door behind him and plunged the whole room into darkness once again.

“Where did you go? I’ve been out searching for hours.” Hotch was on his feet.

“Jesus…” The darkness by the door slurred. “Why are you still here? I told you to go, Hotch. Just go!”

Hotch reached out and grabbed Reid, one hand pinioning his arm and the other grasping his face roughly. He couldn’t see Reid’s eyes… he needed to see them…

“Did you score? How much did you take? Let me see you-”

“Get off me!” Reid shrugged violently and it was enough to free himself from Hotch’s grip. Hotch heard him stumble around and he tried in vain to reach for him again if only to steady him. “You’re just not getting this… you don’t get to reject me _and_ still have a say in what I do. ‘M not your problem anymore…”

“Problem?!? You’ll _always_ be a problem for me, Reid - now tell me what you took!”

“Screw you, Hotch - ‘M just drunk. Now, get the hell outta my room… need some sleep…”

“Do you know how many shooting galleries I’ve been to this evening? I was afraid to find you in every single one of them, and then I ended up leaving them terrified that I’d never find you…”

“Well here I am.” Reid made a wobbly ‘ta-da’ gesture in the dark. “Now, hit the road.”

Hotch heard clothing drop to the floor in uneven intervals as Reid moved towards one of the room’s beds. He also heard a strange rasp that took him a moment to place - it was chuckling. Reid was laughing at him. The latent terror and grief of the past few hours coalesced with the rage that was never far from the surface in him into a terrible storm that lit every synapse. He moved faster than he had intended, slamming into Reid and sending them both crashing into one of the beds.

“Aaron!”

“Don’t fucking laugh at me - what I’ve been through tonight...” He was enraged but his words came out as a desperate whisper. “I can’t lose you!”

Hotch’s hands fisted in Reid’s shirt and shook him a little. They were both breathing hard: Reid from the unexpected tackle, and Hotch from fear.

“But you let me go so long ago…” Reid’s answer was soft, almost resigned. It broke something in Hotch to hear that defeat once again and all of the fight drained out of him in sympathy. He rested his forehead against Reid’s chest and moaned a little in spite of himself. A moment later Hotch felt a hand land lightly on the back of his head.

“I don’t wanna fight ‘bout this anymore. Too tired.” Reid’s hand massaged Hotch’s skull absently. “Lemme sleep. You can stay or go - it’s up to you.”

Reid started to move under Hotch and Hotch sat up to let him do as he wished. Reid curled up on his side, toeing off his shoes and flicking them to the floor, and then wrapped the coverlet around his half-clothed form. He sighed and didn’t make another move. Hotch kneeled on the floor next to the bed and watched until his legs started to cramp. Reid’s thin shoulders rose and fell with his steady respiration - every part of him dead to the world around him and the man who watched his back and roiled with indecision. Hotch didn’t know how long he stared but when he finally made his move, his legs gave out on him as he tried to stand, and he ended up gracelessly fumbling into bed behind Reid. While his legs rioted with pins and needles, Hotch’s arms wrapped around Reid and pulled him a little closer, the coverlet between them. Reid shifted sleepily but didn’t wake; his only act was to mutter ‘Aaron’ as he snuggled into the new position. That word stabbed Hotch in one of the few soft places that he had left, and he bent his head to delicately kiss the back of Reid’s neck.

“Spencer.” If he had said it any louder than a whisper, he would have heard his own voice break.

…

Reid slept for hours without moving. Hotch lay awake soaking up every second of warmth and silently terrified of the moment when Reid would stir and demand that Hotch leave for good. While Reid was right that Hotch hadn’t changed much in the year since they’d parted, it was also true that Hotch’s feelings hadn’t changed with absence either. He wasn’t doing well _with_ Reid, but he was doing even worse _without_ him. He suddenly thought about how massively unfair he was being to Jack. While Hotch was busy trying to outrun his personal life, he was only paying half as much attention to his son as he should have. In essence, Hotch’s selfish denial was slowly harming the two people that he cared for above all others. Hotch sighed and pulled Reid in closer. How hard would it really be to just give into this? What would it really ask of him? That was assuming that he could ever make up the hurt that he had already caused Reid… if the man would even consider being with him now…

Reid stirred in his arms, and Hotch held his breath thinking that _this_ was the moment that it would finally end. A sleepy mumble drifted over them, followed by another, this time in the form of a confused question as Hotch felt Reid’s body become aware of itself.

“Spencer.” He whispered simply, to let him know where he was.

Reid’s body softened again and sagged back against Hotch, a satisfied murmur rumbled from his chest. Hotch lay frozen in disbelief as one of Reid’s hands landed over his arm and squeezed absently.

“Hey.” He mumbled through layers of sleep and alcohol.

A few minutes passed while Hotch’s mind spun uselessly as it had for the past several hours. Then he felt Reid turning in his grip until they faced one another. Eyes still closed, Reid pushed into Hotch’s chest. Even breathing brushed across his neck before Reid placed a soft kiss on the base of Hotch’s throat. Hotch held his breath as he felt Reid’s face settle against his chest and thin arms wrapped around him. Then Reid went still again.

Hotch lay there, his hands dangling in mid-air as he decided where they should go. With Reid burrowed into his chest like a hibernating tick, Hotch was left with few options. This wasn’t what he had expected. Slowly, he placed one hand on Reid’s back and the other the base of his skull; luring him closer. His fingers moved on their own and began to massage the back of Reid’s neck ever so slightly. Strands of hair tangled between Hotch’s fingers slipping against his skin with cool pulls. Reid began to move again but this time the movements were smaller and more purposeful. Their chests bumped once, twice, before they settled against one another. Reid’s face slowly turned until Hotch could feel warm breath haloing his chest just below his collarbones.

“Nice.” Reid mumbled and tightened his grip around Hotch’s waist.

“Pardon?”

“That feels nice.” He reiterated, his lips brushing Hotch’s chest where it peeked out above his dress shirt.

Hotch’s fingers stilled, unsure what to do next. Reid whined and pushed his face into the base of Hotch’s throat leaving a wet kiss in the center.

“Don’t stop.”

Hotch began to shiver - he couldn’t stop himself. Reid let out another whine and Hotch’s fingers started moving again of their own accord. Reid repaid the kindness with a satisfied sigh and a small trail of kisses along Hotch’s neck. Hotch was having a difficult time breathing as his will argued to _separate_ \- to back off - while his arms held Reid tighter and he arched his neck to give him more to work with.

“Reid…” His will had control over his voice and tried to sound reasonable.

“You taste _exactly_ the way you smell…” Reid sounded like he had just solved the Riemann Hypothesis.

Hotch moaned a little. He wanted to know what Reid tasted like but his mind wouldn’t shut up about how bad an idea _that_ was. The reasons why were so simple: it’ll only complicate things, neither one of you will be able to let it go, he’s drunk… Then Reid arched his hips into Hotch’s thigh and momentarily Hotch lost the power to process anything but the firm cock digging into him. 

“Jesus…”

“Relax, Aaron…” Reid whispered blindly into Hotch’s neck and fumbled for the hand at his back. “Just breathe. It’s nothing that either one of us hasn’t done a thousand times by ourselves…”

Reid’s fingers curled around Hotch’s hand and slowly dragged it from his back down and around to the space between them. Hotch allowed it to happen but finally pulled back when he brushed the blanket separating them.

“Spencer… I-I don’t think… I-” His hands wanted to. His whole body wanted to reach out and wrap around Reid.

“Then don’t.” Reid whispered quickly. “Just _watch_ me.”

Every cell in Hotch was suddenly electrified. _Watch?_ Hotch tried not to think about how pedestrian his sexual fantasies had been up to that point because he had never considered just watching. And God help him if it wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d heard in a long time.

Reid reached down and slowly freed himself from the tangle of blankets around him. In his drunken rush for bed, Reid had managed to jettison his pants but still had to navigate his underwear. After a few awkward movements, he arranged himself across the open palm of his hand and made sure that Hotch got a good long look. Hotch went completely still. It wasn’t a casual, sleepy arousal; Reid was hard - ready. The sight of it made Hotch’s head swim a little. Then, slowly, Reid slid his palm out and began to trace the outline of his cock with the tip of his index finger.

“As if it was a tongue… licking…” He breathed.

Hotch licked his lips and watched the quiet journey of Reid’s fingertip as if his life depended on it. It ran along the length of him, then circled once, twice around the head. Then it descended back down along the ridge and Hotch felt as much as heard Reid’s breathing change. His finger ran up and down along the ridge a few times - it seemed like a good spot - Reid stuttered out short gasps that breezed across Hotch’s chest telling him as much. Hotch had to remind himself to keep breathing as Reid’s finger descended once again into the shadows at the base of him. He shifted a little and sucked in air through his teeth. Hotch dragged his eyes away and looked up: Reid’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open as he fought to settle himself.

“I like it when you touch me there…” He whispered suddenly and Hotch flushed. “Sometimes you even squeeze them, but just a little… to tease…”

Reid hitched a little and his words cut out into a low moan instead. Hotch’s eyes flicked back downward and saw Reid cupping his balls. Hotch fought to stay still. He had never actually touched Reid there, but the fantasy that he _had_ , and frequently enough to do it with finesse, made him suddenly and irrationally jealous of his phantom self. _It should’ve been me… my hands…_ His fingers begged for the experience, but he kept them still and silent against the blanket.

Reid’s hand skimmed up along the underside of his length again and then stilled as it reached his head. A drop winked in the darkness at the tip and Reid’s thumb swept up suddenly and smoothed it in a wide circle. His thumb worked the rim a little and then flicked up repeatedly to wipe away the drops that followed. He wasn’t trying to disguise his gasps anymore and Hotch was surprised when he spoke again.

“The courtship is lovely, but it doesn’t last long… it can’t…”

Reid wrapped his entire hand around his length and, with a moan, began to work himself. Hotch choked and felt himself harden all over. One of his hands acted without his permission and landed against his own erection pressing against his pants. His hand pressed as if trying to push away an irritant, trying to silence a distraction. His eyes never left Reid’s hand. It moved faster and more roughly; Hotch noted distantly that their stuttered breath was starting to synchronize.

“Aaron,” Hotch looked up to find Reid staring at his face while his hand worked on its own. “You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve done this to you… how you’ve come in my hands… each time… you act like it’s a miracle.”

Hotch shivered all over, air suddenly punching it’s way in and out of his chest. He stared into those hazel eyes - the ones that pierced back with equal intensity. They were tired and sad but they also held an infinity of feeling that was only meant for _him_. How could you look away from something like that? The hand that tried to still him now reached out and painfully gripped the back of Reid’s neck knocking their foreheads against one another. Hotch closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself but he knew that the battle was lost, so he licked his lips, opened his eyes and watched Reid’s hand again. He didn’t remember making the choice but a moment later his other hand wrapped around Reid’s and began to stroke him fiercely. Reid lurched in his grip and he felt the man choke against his neck.

“Show me what the miracle looks like on you, Spencer.”

Hotch squeezed his hand over Reid’s, both of them moving at a frantic pace. Reid’s forehead ground against Hotch as his face twisted and turned, too lost in feeling to exercise any kind of control. His hips began to thrust in concert with their hands and they both moaned in unison at the sight.

“Fuck… Aaron” Reid gasped. “I won’t have to wonder what y-you look like when you c-come anymore…”

Hotch lost it. He felt himself pump against the tangle of blankets, giving himself over to the image of Reid masturbating to the idea of him _for years_. He swore loudly as dampness seeped through his suit pants. He barely had a chance to catch his breath before Reid contorted in their shared grip and cried out as he released across the coverlet. His orgasm was full - amazing to watch as it seized both his body and his face. Hotch had never seen the expression that bloomed over Reid in that instant before - and he thought that he knew as much as he could about Spencer Reid. The shock of this realization was stunning.

Hotch allowed Reid a few gulps of air before he dragged him in for a deep kiss. He tasted of alcohol and exhaustion born out of living from a suitcase, but as Hotch drew him into his mouth, he also tasted fire. Drained and clinging to a moment that was quickly fading, they refused to let each other go and instead dove deep. It might have been the first time that they had been so in sync, ever. 

As his mouth moved over Reid’s, greedily trying to have more of him, Hotch wondered how he could have considered living out the rest of his days without this experience.


	6. Chapter 6

Hotch felt Reid leave the bed. The bathroom door quietly clicked shut but Hotch waited until he heard the water running before he opened his eyes.

The morning after the night before. How was this going to resolve itself? His stomach tightened in anticipation of all the things that could go wrong now.

He lay there for a long time, feeling grubby from having slept in his clothes - from having _fucked_ in his clothes. Daylight revealed everything and the problems that had tortured him the day before where still there. But now he knew that he had to take a different tack; his current course was set for disaster. He had broken someone that he cared about and he had lessened the joy in his life in the process. He hadn’t really learned a lot about himself in the year that he and Reid had been apart, and he now thought that that spoke volumes about his inability to let the man go. Maybe this was something that he couldn’t get past. What could he do if that were true?

The bathroom door opened and Reid stepped out, now fully naked, scrubbing his damp hair with a towel. He looked over at the bed for a moment and then dropped the towel and came to stand next to Hotch.

“How do you feel?” Reid looked awful, but Hotch didn’t want to say that.

“Wrung out.” Reid said simply, and the look in his eyes made Hotch’s heart bleed a little.

Hotch stared up at him for a long time. He didn’t know what to say or to do, and he was so terrified of screwing things further that his body settled for inertia instead. When the silence was finally broken, he was surprised that it was he who spoke and that his voice cracked when he did.

“I love you, you know…”

Reid stood very still for an instant, and then smiled sadly as he slowly sunk to his knees beside the bed. His hand reached out to smooth the inevitable cowlicks in Hotch’s hair. Hotch saw the newer track marks highlighted against Reid’s pale arm as he did so.

“I’m sorry… this is all my fault…” Hotch felt like he was on the verge of tears.

“You’re right.” Reid nodded. “But get up and have a shower. I guarantee that it’ll improve your outlook.”

Reid kissed his forehead lightly, rose to his feet, and got busy getting dressed for the day.

…

Breakfast had been perfunctory and they exchanged the bare minimum of conversation that was required to get through it. Reid was in need of coffee more than usual. Hotch watched him eat, saw his body slowly solidify with energy and intent for what lay ahead. He lowered his eyes and sipped his own coffee thinking that even with everything that he was going through, Reid was still a braver man than he.

They picked up banker’s boxes at an office supply store and then headed out to Bennington. Hotch wondered how Reid would react to seeing his mother’s room, laid out as she had left it, but he showed no emotion at all. He sat himself on the end of her bed and began folding the banker’s boxes without a word. Within minutes of their arrival, David Fischer knocked on the open door with a practiced look of sadness and some casual questions about the final state of Diana Reid’s effects. Reid stared at the administrator for a second and then looked directly at Hotch. A lot was transmitted in that moment and Hotch found himself stepping between Reid and Fischer, engaging the administrator with his most diffident authority as he directed them away from the room and leaving Reid behind.

“Mr. Fischer, I have arranged for a charity to come and pick up Mrs. Reid’s furnishings - Dr. Reid doesn’t want them. Perhaps you could help me organize their removal in such a way as to cause a minimum of disruption for your other residents?”

The movers had taken less than an hour to clear out Diana’s suite. Hotch had then spent another hour clearing up the final paperwork with Mr. Fischer. He returned to find Reid sitting on the floor surrounded by half-filled boxes staring at the contents of a weathered cardboard container. As he came closer, Hotch saw Reid holding a letter in his hand - he knew from experience that it was Reid’s long cursive writing.

“What’s that?”

“These,” Reid quietly gestured to the box and two more in the corner. “Are the letters that I wrote to Mom. Every single one of them since the day I left for college. She filed them in chronological order and included notations about the time and condition in which she received them.”

Hotch looked over Reid’s shoulder at the immaculately neat box of letters complete with coloured tabs and notes for each section. It bordered on obsessive. Hotch let out an involuntary huff and raised his eyebrows.

“People only see the chaos of schizophrenia. They think that fundamental order is beyond these people, but some are highly organized - it’s just hard to see the method of that order. Like seeing something encoded and not having a primer…” Reid pointed to another beat up box next to the letters. “That one is full of her lecture notes. Many of them she wrote after she was institutionalized. Some of them are remarkably cogent.”

Reid’s hand shook a little as it held the letter. Hotch stepped forward and laid his palm along Reid’s shoulder. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“You know, I have all of her letters too… I drag them with me wherever I go. I have a filing system too, but it’s not as detailed as this…”

He tried to chuckle but it came out all wrong. Hotch closed his eyes briefly and set his jaw so that he wouldn’t utter a stupid platitude that meant nothing - Reid deserved better than that. The hand on his shoulder squeezed tightly. Reid slowly placed the unfolded letter back in its assigned slot and moved his hand to cover Hotch’s. 

They remained like that in silence for a long time.

\---

It took them most of the day to sort through what was left and pack up what Reid wanted to keep into the back seat of his old Volkswagen. Reid picked up the last box and walked out of Diana’s room without a backwards glance; nothing of value remained there. Hotch, however, stood in the doorway and looked at the dust motes floating through the afternoon sunlight, the outlines of pictures on the walls and the voids made by the missing furniture, and felt a profound sense of dread.

_Everyone ends alone and we leave nothing behind - barely a shadow on a wall…_

He looked at the stark abandonment of the room and suddenly started to panic. His pulse sped up and his breath grew shallow - he found himself gasping and held onto the doorframe with a white-knuckled grip. 

_This is all ending… it’s just a protracted good-bye. You’ve already packed him away into a box. You’re not even dead and you’re busy tidying up… leaving nothing but sunlight and dust voids…_

His chest throbbed and his stomach lurched; he felt bile splash the back of his throat. A voice behind him made him twitch and it was distracting enough to marshal his will over his instincts.

“All done, then?” It was Mr. Fischer trying to smile and seem sympathetic at the same time.

“Yes.” Hotch turned and cleared his throat. He held his hand out and shook the administrator’s firmly - it was the thing to do. “Thanks for your help today.”

“Of course, Agent Hotchner. I appreciate you coming down from D.C. to handle this - losing a resident is always a difficult process.” Mr. Fischer looked beyond Hotch and into the empty room. “It’s disheartening to pack away a life into tiny boxes, isn’t it?”

Hotch found himself unable to answer so he just nodded and then unceremoniously pushed past the administrator as he tried to prevent himself from running towards the sun-soaked parking lot.


	7. Chapter 7

They drove back to the hotel in silence and the awkwardness remained as they walked back to Reid’s room and both just stood there feeling useless. For Hotch’s part, the anxiety that had come over him at Bennington had slowly increased during their silent ride, and now he felt the physical compaction of time as his exit approached.

“When is your flight?” Reid’s voice seemed to boom in the quiet.

“Five-thirty.”

“Well…” Reid sighed and contemplated his shoes for a few minutes. “You’ll have to get going. Traffic out to McCarran is murder at this time of day.”

Hotch found himself staring at Reid from across the room. The moment was just so… empty. He had so much to say and felt utterly insufficient to say it. Time was ticking past them and with every lost minute he felt greater panic at never being able to get all of the words out.

“Jack will be happy to see you…”

“What’s next for you?” Hotch didn’t want to talk about his life back in D.C. Alone.

“Well, I’ll start the drive back to Pasadena tomorrow, I guess. I’ll take it slow - there’s no hurry. It’s mid-term break at CalTech and Cooper hasn’t contacted me in weeks, so…”

“Cooper? Sam Cooper?” Hotch frowned.

“Um, yeah. I consult with his team on occasion.” Reid gave him a puzzled look. “I asked him not to tell you - I know that you are friends - but I never really expected him to keep his word.”

Reid was working for the West Coast division of the BAU? Something in Hotch’s blood boiled - it felt like Reid had just confessed to fucking someone else. Reid should be in D.C., working for _him_. Hotch swallowed hard and made an effort to throttle back his anger; the only reason why Reid was working with another team was because of Hotch’s inaction. He pushed Reid to this. Profiling was one of Reid’s passions - did Hotch really expect him to just give it up? Self-loathing settled in over Hotch deepening the lines of his face. Reid must have seen something else there because he crossed the room quickly to stand in front of him.

“Listen… you were right: I needed help with all of this. I should’ve reached out and… and perhaps it was just my pride that prevented that. I dunno. Anyway… you really helped me. Thank you, Aaron.”

Hotch looked up at him as if his gratitude was ludicrous. “It was the very least that I could do for you, Spencer.”

“Regardless, I know that this wasn’t easy for you. You’ve been here for me and I’m grateful.”

Spencer Reid was _grateful_ to the man that had caused nothing but turmoil and discontent in his personal life, simply because he had used some of his Air Miles to help him pack boxes. He almost shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to shout that he didn’t deserve anything - not after he had rejected his best friend, torpedoing his career in the process. Jesus, Hotch was also directly responsible for Reid relapsing. Standing in line at Staples or dealing with the ambulance-chasing David Fischer didn’t really cancel any of that out.

“And you don’t have to worry about me.” Reid spoke quietly and held onto Hotch’s elbow. “I’m not going to… _do_ anything. I know that I was close to the edge when you first arrived… but I’m okay now. I feel stronger. I can’t make absolute guarantees but I don’t think that I’m in any danger of relapsing. When I leave tomorrow, I’m leaving Vegas behind for good. There’s nothing left for me here.”

 _Just like there’s nothing for him in D.C._ , Hotch thought miserably. That’s why he’s working for Cooper: he’s never returning to Washington but there are bad guys to hunt wherever you go. Reid was right: he could go anywhere, do anything with his skills… he didn’t need Hotch in order to be extraordinary.

“That’s a relief.” Hotch croaked around a full throat. “I was thinking about rescheduling my flight. I don’t like the idea of you being alone tonight. I could catch the seven forty-five…”

“No, Aaron, that’s not necessary, really. You should get back to Jack. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

Reid smiled and squeezed Hotch’s arm as if he was making the most reasonable argument in the world. Hotch thought that it was possibly the nicest rejection that he could have received, all things considered. His heart pushed out one huge agonizing beat as he realized that his time was up. He breathed deeply, fixed his most professional expression to his face, and held out his hand to Reid.

“I wish you the best, Spencer.”

Reid’s smile flickered momentarily as he looked down at Hotch’s hand. He seemed to consider it for a moment and then pulled Hotch in for a hug instead.

“Take care of yourself, Aaron.” His squeezed Hotch tightly for several seconds and then pushed away.

Hotch couldn’t look at him again. He wheeled around, grabbed his go bag, and marched himself out of the hotel room as if called to war. He couldn’t think or feel himself move until he had thrown his bag in the trunk and sat in the driver’s seat with the keys in the ignition. The car was insanely hot but he couldn’t make himself start the engine. He just stared at the keys dangling from the steering column and his hand lying across his thigh. If he turned that key, there would be nothing in front of him but the trip home, the office on Monday, the next case to unravel… It was what he knew and he was sure that he could do it. But the minutes ticked past and all he could do was stare at his unmoving hand.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun set slowly creating one of those sunsets that you only found in the desert. With the sun gone, the temperature dropped and he finally realized that the erratic clicking sound he heard was his teeth chattering. He looked around. The streetlights were on; he was momentarily confused. The hotel’s neon sign lit the face of his watch at intervals: seven fifty-two.

He looked around again in alarm - how had this happened? He saw a silhouette leaning against the railing above his car, outlined against the light of an open doorway. He bent a little and stared, and the silhouette straightened and slowly climbed down the stairs to the parking lot. He walked over to the driver’s side and leaned an arm against the upper frame of the door. Hotch turned the engine over and powered down the window.

“You missed your flight. And the one after it.”

Trust him to know the schedule to D.C. … Hotch couldn’t find anything to say - he wasn’t even sure how this had all happened.

“So, what was your plan? Were you going to sleep in the car?”

“I don’t know.” Hotch whispered.

Reid stared at him for a while - Hotch couldn’t make out his expression and he didn’t feel like speculating about it. Finally, he stood up straight and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Come on - get out. We’re going for pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“That’s where _I_ was going when I came out and found you lurking in your car. There’s this place not far from here - the best in Vegas. But they don’t deliver.”

Hotch stared at the ragged shadow waiting outside the car.

“Bring a jacket. It’s a bit of a walk and it gets cold here at night.”

\---

Reid was right: the pizza was amazing. They sat in a park halfway between the hotel and the pizzeria eating slice after slice in contented silence. After Hotch had inhaled his fifth piece, he wiped his hands and leaned back against the picnic table with a sigh. He had really needed that.

“I think that’s the best pizza I’ve ever had.”

“I doubt it. Exhaustion can do odd things to the perception of sensory inputs. I mean, yeah - it’s good, but Morgan was always going on about the divine supremacy of Chicago deep dish.”

Hotch shook his head. “Pizza shouldn’t be eaten with a knife and fork. Thin crust is where it’s at.”

Reid chuckled and reached behind Hotch for another slice from the box, his arm brushing lightly against Hotch’s neck as it passed. Hotch watched Reid munch as the sky turned a deep shade of indigo around them. The park was deserted and lit by a few lights from the tennis courts, swaying in the evening breeze.

“So,” Reid spoke suddenly, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Are you going to tell me about what you were doing sitting in your car for four hours?”

“I honestly don’t know. It didn’t feel real. One moment I was staring at the car keys and the next it was dark outside…”

Reid made a ‘hmmm’ noise and shuffled beside him. He was sitting on the table itself, his feet on the bench, making himself taller than Hotch. He leaned his arms against his thighs and laced his fingers together.

“You know, it’s not really any of my business anymore, but this… paralysis that you’re experiencing in your personal decisions can only be contained for so long.”

That got Hotch’s attention. He turned to face Reid and waited for the rest.

“When you are working a case, you never hesitate, you never _fail_ to act. Even if your decision is incorrect, you’re always formulating strategies in order to move forward. That’s why you lead and we all follow you, no matter what.”

Reid went quiet for a while. Hotch refused to move or to question or push. He knew that there was more but he wasn’t sure that he was ready to hear it.

“The thing is, we can’t segregate one part of our lives from the rest. Not for too long, anyway. If you doubt yourself so completely in your personal life, it’s just a matter of time before that indecision leaks into your professional realm as well. How can you trust yourself to make choices for others when you cannot choose for yourself? And beyond all of that, what sort of message does this send to Jack?”

Hotch’s anger flared at the mention of his son. Reid had no right - he wasn’t a parent. He didn’t understand the pressure to be a living example to one’s own flesh and blood.

“Inaction in itself is a choice; it’s just not one that you voluntarily make.”

“I made a choice to leave today…” Hotch growled.

“But you weren’t committed to it, otherwise you’d be eating with Jack tonight.” Reid turned to Hotch in the twilight. “It didn’t feel like I had many options open to me at the time, but I _chose_ to leave the BAU - to leave you. And I stuck to that choice even when the loss cut so deeply that only Dilaudid could dim it.”

Hotch ducked his head. It was the first time that Reid had openly blamed him for his relapse. He was about to apologize when Reid interrupted him.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry - I’m not asking for that and I can’t use it. I made the choice to shoot up just like I made the choice to leave. I have to own that. What decisions are _you_ owning, Aaron, and what decisions are _owning you_? I don’t expect you to answer, but it’s worth thinking about - both for your sake and for Jack’s.”

Reid looked down at his hands and then jumped off the picnic table. He grabbed the pizza box and headed for a trashcan. He made it halfway back to the table, his face shadowed by his hair and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He jerked his head towards the road and waited for Hotch.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here. I’m freezing my butt off.”


	9. Chapter 9

They got back to the hotel and Hotch stopped by his car while Reid walked past and up the stairs to his room.

“C’mon, Hotch.” He said without looking back. “Sleeping in the car is _not_ a good plan.”

Hotch walked into the room just in time to see Reid toss his go bag on the bed furthest from the door. Just as he used to when they bunked together while working a case. The familiar movement eased Hotch a little. He smiled and left his bag, newly retrieved from the car, on the other bed. He watched Reid root out some clothes from his bag and then disappear into the washroom, just as he always did. Hotch breathed out slowly and sunk into a chair. After a moment, he drew out his cell and called Jack at his aunt’s house. The conversation with Jack was exuberant, full of details from his day. His conversation with Jess had been less so: What are you doing down there? Why is this your problem? You have responsibilities to Jack… Don’t you ever wonder if _I_ have plans? She was a little too much like Haley sometimes. He hung up and gratefully closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair.

“Wow. I could hear her from the bathroom.”

Hotch opened his eyes and saw Reid leaning against the bathroom door with a toothbrush shoved into the side of his mouth.

“I guess she doesn’t like me.”

“She’s never met you.”

“She’s Haley’s sister. I’m sure that they talked. I’m sure that Haley wondered about things…”

Hotch stared. He had never wondered if Haley thought he was cheating on her, mostly because he _wasn’t_. He hadn’t actively started to fantasize about Reid until the marriage was almost over. Before that, he hadn’t considered himself cheating on his wife even if his friendship with his colleague seemed a little odd to most. But more importantly, he had never once wondered if Reid thought about any of this. Did he feel that he played a role in the demise of Hotch’s marriage? Hotch didn’t feel that way - not at all. Realistically, nothing had ever happened between them… not until now, here in Vegas…

“Haley had no reason to be jealous.” Hotch leaned forward in the chair. “Nothing ever happened. It never even came close to happening.”

“Nothing ever happened except that we spent most of our waking hours together, we traveled, we shared things with each other, we were there for one another when the unspeakable happened… basically, it was everything that you never did with her. She had every right to be jealous of the job, of me.”

Reid stared for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders before disappearing back into the bathroom. Hotch just sat, dumbfounded. He couldn’t really remember the moment when Reid had ceased to be a colleague and turned into something more for him. Perhaps Reid and Haley were right; perhaps he had been cheating on her for years and had been too stubborn to notice. All of those years when he had shared little parts of himself that he hardly dared give voice to in the first place - it had always been with Reid. He remembered the humiliating ride back from the Hardwick interview - how he had admitted that his loss of focus that day was because his marriage was finally over. Reid took it in stride, kept it to himself, and reassured Hotch that he would always have his back.

_I find I do some of my best work under intense terror…_

If only Hotch could honestly say the same…

Reid reappeared from the bathroom and flopped down onto the far bed. He arranged himself in a splay of haphazard limbs with a pillow bunched under his head and stared at Hotch.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about all of the crappy hotels that we’ve stayed in over the years.”

Reid grinned. “Yeah, statistically, it seems improbable that the Bureau could so consistently avoid quality establishments. It feels _purposeful_ \- like we should never forget that we work for the government or something. I thought about writing a proposal to the Director at one point, using our history at the BAU as my statistical base, but then I thought that they might use it as a list of approved venues thereby screwing over hundreds of agents for the foreseeable future.”

Hotch laughed out loud at that. It felt good, as if the whole room had begun to float a little. He stood up and crossed over to his own bed, scooting to the edge closest to Reid and letting his legs dangle.

“Pictures of the Director on dart boards all over the Bureau would be replaced by images of Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Can you imagine? Who needs that kind of celebrity… it would be like high school all over again.” Reid rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Do you remember that ‘lodge’ that we stayed at during the Hardwick interview?”

“I remember feeling like I should be deloused after using the bathroom…”

They both laughed and let the weariness that they shared rest for a bit. It wasn’t all angst and denial. There was the case in Alaska where Hotch had taught Reid about snow tracking and Reid had told Hotch way too much about fir trees. There was the night after they closed a case in Miami when Morgan and Prentiss had gotten Reid drunk on Mai-Tais - Hotch had dragged him to a bench on the boardwalk and they stayed up all night talking about constellations and Greek mythology. After a difficult case in Denver that left everyone snapping at everyone else, Hotch had taken Reid bowling to blow off steam. Reid had kicked his ass while mimicking the bowling style of Fred Flintstone. Hotch had dozens of memories like that, and when he thought about them - there, in that hotel room - he realized that Reid was probably right: he’d been cheating on Haley the moment he became a profiler. He couldn’t share himself with someone who didn’t understand the job, and when he unconsciously realized this, he turned to someone who would understand. Why it had been Reid over all of the others, he didn’t know. Maybe he’d never know.

“You saved our lives that day, with Hardwick.” Hotch said eventually. “I know that I explained why it happened afterward, but I don’t think that I ever thanked you. Or said that I was sorry for putting you in danger like that.”

Reid sat up slowly. “We’re not going to enumerate all of the instances that we saved each other’s bacon, are we? We’ll be up all night.”

“C’mon, Spencer, I’m trying to apologize for taking you for granted all of these years…”

“Oh…” Reid quietly squirmed a little. “Ummm, okay…”

Hotch stood up and held out his hand to Reid. “Thank you. For seven years.”

Reid rose and took Hotch’s hand. He squeezed it firmly, and Hotch watched as he struggled to make eye contact. “You’re welcome, Aaron.”

Hotch felt time contract again as he rapidly approached a moment that his life had been unconsciously moving towards. This time, he knew what to do and had the power of conviction behind him when he did it. He took a step forward and pulled Reid in for a kiss. It wasn’t like the night before - this kiss was soft and warm and it stretched around both of them binding them together. Reid didn’t balk; moving with Hotch as he softened the lines of his long body to fit into the voids that separated them from each other. Hotch took his time allowing his fingers to drift along Reid’s jaw, down his neck, across his shoulders and down his back. He pushed gently with his lips and when Reid’s tongue finally brushed his, a warm burst lit out across his body in response. As their kiss shifted and drew them in more deeply, Hotch’s hand found it’s way into Reid’s hair while his other played with the hem of his t-shirt and flirted with the skin underneath. Reid gave Hotch’s tongue a long, purposeful suck and then firmly pushed him away. Hotch didn’t have time to register confusion before Reid pulled his shirt over his head in one movement and dropped it to the floor. He closed the space between them again and slowly undid the top button of Hotch’s dress shirt. Hotch watched Reid’s fingers work - one button, two, three… - his breath running so shallow that he started to feel dizzy. His traitorous conscience stepped in and began to fill the silence within him with conversation.

_After everything you’ve done to him, how can you justify this? You’re an emotional coward - you don’t deserve having him if you’re not prepared to do whatever you have to in order to keep him. How is this any different than offering him a syringe and tying a tourniquet around his arm? Can you honestly call this love, or are you just terrified of walking around the rest of your life dead inside?_

Hotch realized that Reid’s fingers had stopped moving.

“Look at me, Aaron.”

Hotch looked up slowly. Reid’s eyes were clear and focused; there was no hint of confusion, no hurt or condemnation. Hotch took in the sharp lines of Reid’s face, the long planes of his shoulders and chest. He was nothing but sinew and lean muscle - as if his whole body was bent toward a _purpose_. He didn’t seem to possess anything that wasn’t useful in some way, either physically or intellectually. Hotch sighed and wondered what it felt like to live that way - to carry with you only that which you really needed throughout your life.

“Aaron, it’s okay.” Reid said quietly.

What did he mean? Everything? Because there was absolutely no way that Reid could just sweep all of the hurt that Hotch had caused away and let it go.

“How can you say that?” Hotch felt his face crumble as a blush of shame washed over him. His hands rose up and settled lightly around Reid’s throat, his thumbs caressing the hollow between his collarbones. “After everything that I’ve said and done…”

“Because you’re not the only one who made this happen.” Reid gripped Hotch’s chin firmly. “Do you really believe that seven years of denial falls solely on you? I might have been the one who worked up the nerve to leave, but that’s only because I had tried in vain for years to find the courage to tell you what I really wanted. I was a coward, Aaron - I left and made it seem like this huge self-sacrifice, and I put the blame all back on you in the process.”

“I never saw it that way.” Hotch whispered.

“Of course you didn’t.” Reid’s smile was a little sad. “So, stop beating yourself up so thoroughly for it, okay? And kiss me again.”

Hotch did as he was told, this time grasping at Reid and leaving marks against his pale skin like a roadmap of want. He felt Reid’s fingers work their way down his shirt and when they got to the bottom, Hotch didn’t wait - he shrugged out of it impatiently. He reached out and pulled their hips together not worried about how he felt against Reid. He wasn’t concerned about hiding his lust, nor was he concerned about hiding the poorly healed scars across his abdomen - Reid was one of the few people who had seen them before. Hotch remembered that first month after Foyet’s attack when he sat listlessly as Reid hobbled around his apartment on crutches, changing Hotch’s dressings, making sure that he took his medications correctly and on time… Hotch never asked how Reid managed it all with his own injury complicating everything. For a long time afterwards Hotch couldn’t even recall the memory of him _being there_ , though clearly he had been - all of his booze had been thrown away and his books had been meticulously re-ordered on their shelves. The memory made Hotch pull Reid tightly against him as his teeth scored the other man’s neck. Something was burning through him from the inside out now; it wasn’t just want, although that’s the word that his brain ascribed to the feeling. He wanted to love Reid. He wanted to give over his future to showing his gratitude for Reid’s presence in his life. Lust was just a small part of it, a way to demonstrate this burning that he couldn’t articulate. He felt himself turning onto a path determined by a _choice_ , although it really didn’t feel like he had another option. The choice scared him - he didn’t know if he could do it. It was beyond the scope of his experience.

_“Even if your decision is incorrect, you’re always formulating strategies in order to move forward…”_

I want him - it’s worth the risk.

A growl formed in Hotch’s chest and bubbled up through him and out into Reid’s mouth as he shoved his fingers past the waistband of Reid’s pants. His hand wrapped around Reid’s cock, trapped between them as they twisted to get closer to one another, and it forced a gasp from Reid as he pushed away.

“Spencer, I-” Hotch stammered.

“Just hold on. This isn’t going to last very long if we go that route.”

“Oh… okay. I…” Hotch was at a loss as he watched Reid peel off his loose cotton pants in one fluid movement. 

Oh. 

He became distracted by Reid’s erection. Hotch had had plenty of fantasies over the years but at that moment he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with _that_. The previous night notwithstanding, he had never been with a man and he was woefully under prepared. Reid appeared to be on a mission and wasn’t waiting for Hotch to catch up. He fumbled with Hotch’s belt and fly then sank to his knees as he hooked his thumbs under the fabric and skimmed Hotch’s pants and underwear down his legs to pile at his feet. Hotch watched as Reid laid his fingers along his upper thighs and made an oddly satisfied noise in the back of his throat. Hotch had to close his eyes and steady himself as the sound coupled with the touch set his whole body vibrating. He felt Reid’s fingertips skim to the inside of his thighs and he moaned a little as a mighty pulse echoed through him. When he felt warmth encircle his cock, his eyes flicked open and down, mesmerized by the brown tangles that seemed attached to his waist… _moving_ …

“Spencer!” The name whistled through his teeth as a he buried his fingers in Reid’s hair. 

The vibrating turned into full-body shaking. Reid wasn’t exactly being delicate; his mouth worked Hotch intensely. The soft sucking noises were extremely distracting and Hotch had a hard time trying to make the connection between it and the thought that “this is the sound that Spencer makes as he sucks me off”. Not to mention that his mouth was beyond warm, and that during every other pull, Hotch felt himself hit the back of Reid’s throat… _God help me._

“Fuck!... Spence?” He warned as his knees started to forget their purpose.

Suddenly, the warmth was gone and Hotch whined a little as he opened his eyes to figure out what was going on now. Reid placed his hands on Hotch’s hips and pushed forcefully so that Hotch collapsed back onto his bed with an indelicate thud. Hotch pushed himself up on his elbows only to be thrust back down again as Reid laid himself across Hotch’s chest and kissed him as if to bruise. 

“Stay down.” He commanded as he bit down on Hotch’s lip. “I want you to concentrate on feeling all of this, and nothing else.”

That seemed like a really good idea. He decided that it was even better still when Reid disappeared between his thighs and then he suddenly felt warmth halo one of his balls. When the soft sucking began again and the warmth switched to his other side, he was eternally grateful for the mattress beneath him.

“Jesus, Spence!” He hissed as he twisted to give Reid more. “Your mouth… it’s evil…”

“I never imagined you being this vocal.” Reid chuckled. “What a lovely discovery…”

“I can be quiet if you prefer…”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Reid lightly tickled the area behind Hotch’s balls producing such an enthusiastic moan that it even shocked Hotch. When he spoke again, his voice sent vibrations throughout Hotch’s pelvis. “Besides, I want you to say and do whatever you like here. This isn’t about expectations, it’s only about experience.”

Hotch was amazed by Reid’s forthrightness. He exuded the kind of confidence that his teammates had teased him about for years. He seemed to have a targeted directness now that felt out of character for the man that Hotch had come to know. He always thought of Reid as physically shy - he’d certainly never given anyone reason to think otherwise. Could Hotch have been so wrong about someone that he had spent more time considering than any other person of his acquaintance? Or was it something else? Was it that Reid didn’t feel constrained with him? _That_ thought made Hotch throb all over. 

He looked down his torso to see Reid’s hooded stare. He held it for a moment and then slowly took Hotch’s cock into his mouth again. Hotch gritted his teeth as he fought the urge to ram himself upwards and come right there. The soft sucking noise began again and he fell under Reid’s spell as his whole body started to twitch, gathering energy in his hips. He started to move with Reid’s mouth, breathing in gasps when he could remember to do so.

“Faster.” He moaned.

Reid obeyed and it felt like alchemy: this person turning his wants - never shared with another - into pleasure. Reid’s fingers skimmed between him, over him, around and under him; squeezing, scoring, tickling, and tugging. Hotch launched his hips up sharply and he felt Reid’s mouth push back against him in reflex. Teeth gave him a warning graze and he hissed loudly. 

“More…” He looked down and caught Reid arch an eyebrow questioningly. “Use your teeth…”

Again Reid obeyed, intensifying his movements and scoring Hotch lightly as he did so. The effect was like playing chicken with a train in a tunnel. There was the thrill of rushing forward, being unable to move in any other direction, as well as feeling the frisson of danger. Only trust in his instincts made the sensation an escalating pleasure as opposed to a terrifying fear. Only trust in himself, and trust in Reid.

The pressure in him was palpable. It coiled in hot streaks through his thighs and burned in him each time that he thrust into Reid’s mouth. Teeth were rubbing him raw and he knew that if he didn’t stop soon he’d regret it later. He thread his fingers through Reid’s hair, hoping to find the willpower to pull the man’s mouth away. He was close but didn’t know how he should handle it; Haley never let him come in her mouth.

“Stop… Spence, stop…” He gasped. “Please…”

Reid murmured against him and it vibrated through his cock - a question.

“I’m gonna… you need to get off me…”

Reid stopped for a second and then Hotch felt him shake his head and murmur ‘uh-uh’. The sucking started again in earnest - long, hard pulls against him followed by low moans from Reid that vibrated through his body. The coiling unfolded into unstoppable intent as he felt his balls drop and Reid stroked them one last time. Hotch’s head fell back on the bed. His hands clamped on Reid’s shoulders and he pumped upwards savagely. He felt himself hit to back of Reid’s throat momentarily and his whole body throbbed towards that tiny point in space. His hips pulsed, his eyes squeezed shut as he cried out and allowed himself to be consumed by Reid’s insistent sucks. The man’s fingers dug deeply into Hotch’s body, holding him in place while his mouth and throat worked him. Hotch’s body seized one last time before he gave up, going limp and helpless beneath Reid. 

The next few moments were fuzzy but eventually Hotch felt Reid lie next to him pressing along the length of his side.

“You okay?”

“Oh my God…” Hotch was having trouble breathing.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Yes… yes, Christ _yes_ …”

Hotch heard Reid laugh softly into him. He also felt something else: Reid was still hard and full against him. As if Hotch had spoken aloud, Reid shifted and the pressure was suddenly gone. Hotch rolled to his side, concern drawing his features down, How inconsiderate, Hotch suddenly thought, to never think about Reid’s needs…

“You…” Hotch pushed against Reid’s erection.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Hotch wasn’t sure where he summoned the energy from, but he rolled them both over until Reid was supine and Hotch was pinned on top of him. He kissed Reid deeply, interested in the way he tasted now, and moaned a little as Reid slowly melted into him. His mouth drifted, going wherever taste and desire sent it, until he found himself slowly descending down Reid’s torso.

“I apologize in advance.” Hotch mumbled into Reid’s abdomen. “I’ve never done this before…”

“Aaron, you don’t…”

Reid’s words cut off sharply as Hotch took him into his mouth. After that, Reid didn’t say anything at all, just gave himself over to gasps and moaning. Hotch found the sensation odd. He’d heard people talk about the taste, but mostly it was the texture that he found disorienting. A cock feels different on your tongue than it does in your hand. He didn’t find it unpleasant, just _other_ than he expected. A full body blush coloured him as he tried his best to imitate Reid’s technique; he was keenly aware of the risk of falling short. Reid sank his fingers into Hotch’s hair and gently helped him establish a rhythm. When Hotch started hearing groans above him, he relaxed a little. His mouth started to experiment and soon he discovered a winning combination of slow, deep sucks that made Reid squirm. 

Unlike Hotch, Reid wasn’t talkative, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t ask for things. Hotch’s tongue swirled and tasted salt. He heard the pitch of Reid’s voice change and suddenly Reid’s hand found Hotch’s and directed it to his ass. He moaned softly; if it had been a statement, it would’ve been a hesitant one. Hotch smiled to himself, happy to be trusted enough by Reid to risk the request. He teased around for a moment or two - enough time for Reid to change his mind - and then he slowly inserted his finger. Reid gasped and his cock twitched in Hotch’s mouth, and this process repeated itself as Hotch began to pulse. He sucked harder, moved faster, and did his best to contain the body writhing beneath him. Reid’s hand grasped Hotch’s wrist and adjusted his rhythm and penetration. When the moaning changed again, and the grip on his wrist became almost painful, Hotch inserted another finger. Reid cried out, back arching off the bed, and Hotch tasted more salt in his mouth. He smiled, oddly confident for the first time. It wouldn’t be long now. 

Hotch gave over his hand to Reid who was grinding into it zealously, and concentrated on using his mouth. He stroked harder, faster, and deeper - trying to match Reid’s breathing - until he felt the younger man’s body suddenly contort and push against him. He pulled hard and then swallowed, distracting himself as he peered up Reid’s twisted torso and watched his muscles strain and bow under the pressure of his release. Reid’s head punched back into the mattress as his back arched up, his mouth open in a silent gasp. Hotch watched the quiet display, so different from the night before, and was again taken with the delight at being able to experience it - to be utterly surprised by it. When Reid finally sagged back into the mattress, Hotch let him go with a gentle pop, crawled up beside him and waited. It took a while for Reid to steady his breathing, but when he did, Hotch smiled.

“Alright?”

Reid nodded gratefully. Hotch blushed again, but this time it wasn’t fear or shame. His best friend burrowed his face into Hotch’s neck and sighed. He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so content just to give someone else what they wanted.


	10. Chapter 10

Something tickled Hotch’s face and it slowly dragged him up from the depths of sleep. His eyes flicked open and he saw the problem: Reid’s hair was a tangled wave across the pillows in front of him. The room was all shadows, intermittently lit by the hotel’s flashing vacancy sign outside. They were steeped in the heavy silence that is unique to the deepest part of night. Hotch concentrated and eventually heard Reid’s even breath beside him. In that stillness it was easy to believe that they were the only two people left in the world. _I could stand that… if he was with me, I could stand that._

He felt his body ache contentedly - his heart ached with a different purpose. Time was contracting again and soon they’d have to choose. He knew his choice now - knew that all of the other options were pointless - but that didn’t mean that his choice would work out. He remembered the advice that he received after he had been cleared of his first official shooting. An older agent saw his frozen stare and told him that you could make all the right decisions and _still_ get a negative outcome. That statement had served him well over his years in the Bureau, but he didn’t think that he could contemplate what it might mean right now, here, for him and Reid. 

His arms tightened around Reid and pulled him closer into his chest. He ignored common sense and buried his face deeper into the hair that had roused him. It smelled like clean linens with a hint of the worn leather satchel that he was always carrying around. Reid stirred a little in his sleep and then settled into the new position with a sigh. Hotch’s lips brushed against the base of Reid’s neck.

“You’ve ruined me for anything else.”


	11. Chapter 11

Reid followed Hotch to the car rental depot and then gave him a ride to his departure terminal. It had taken them longer than expected to return the car and they were already calling Hotch’s flight when they arrived at the security screening that would part them. It was still early and they hadn’t said much during the brief time when conversation had been possible. Now they turned to each other and shuffled awkwardly, knowing that time was getting away from them.

“I’ll call when I get back to Pasadena.” Reid blurted suddenly. “So you know that I arrived safely.”

Hotch nodded, a deep scowl elongating his features. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. He didn’t want to think about his life back in D.C. or Reid’s life in California. Through the haze of security messages, he heard his flight number being called out over the P.A. system.

“That’s you.” Reid shrugged. “You’d better go before Southwest Airlines blacklists you as a tease or something…”

Reid’s attempt at humor pushed Hotch the other way towards desperation. He reached out and grabbed Reid’s arm as he pinned him with one of his ferocious stares.

“Come back to D.C.” Hotch continued as Reid was winding up a response. “I’ll get you reinstated and then I’ll quit.”

“The Unit isn’t the problem, Hotch.” Reid used his nickname, not his given name, and it made Hotch twitch. “I’m not sure that transferring out-”

“I didn’t mean quit the Unit, I meant that I’d quit the Bureau.”

That silenced Reid. He just stood there under Hotch’s stare, blinking.

“I could practice law, I could go back to the Federal Prosecutor’s Office, I could teach… the BAU isn’t all that I’m good for…”

“This shouldn’t be about sacrifice.”

“It’s not a sacrifice, it’s a _choice_.” Hotch said firmly as he squeezed Reid’s elbow. “Come back to D.C. with me.”

“Aaron…” Reid sighed and then physically flinched as the P.A. announced Hotch’s flight number again. “You need to go.”

“Spencer, _why?_ Isn’t this what you wanted? I’ll put the demands of my career behind me, I’ll admit what you mean to me to the whole world…”

He pulled Reid up against him and gave him an unambiguous kiss in the middle of the departures terminal. Somewhere in the distance someone cheered and let out a wolf whistle.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Hotch huffed a little as they separated. “I just care about you.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely true, Aaron.” Reid struggled to free himself. “Besides, what if you were right? What if this can’t exist beyond this place?”

Hotch let him go. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe that here and now, what’s happening between us is _everything_.” Reid’s voice cut out for a minute and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “But away from here, from this volatile situation, that might not still be the case. I think that we need to know that before any decision gets made.”

“Do you think that this was an simple choice for me to make? That it could be so easily altered?” Hotch growled. 

“No, I don’t.” Reid barked back. “But I think that the reality of your life might trump the desires of your heart if they aren’t right in front of you all the time. I don’t want to be unpacking boxes in Georgetown when you figure that out.”

The P.A. system announced the last call for Hotch’s flight as both of them stared each other down. Hotch frowned and considered saying a dozen remarkably hurtful things. Instead, he picked up his go bag and brushed past Reid.

“You’re wrong about this. You’re wrong and you’ll regret it, Spencer.”

He didn’t wait for Reid’s response although he thought he heard an “I need time, Aaron” disappear into the cacophony of the departures terminal. He strode to the security checkpoint and pulled out his ticket and F.B.I. credentials. He was through in no time, and he was relieved because it meant that he expended less energy stopping himself from looking back. He trudged towards the gate where flight attendants were waving last minute stragglers aboard, and told himself that, in that moment, he didn’t care what Spencer Reid thought or did next.


	12. Chapter 12

Hotch had to restrain himself from checking his cell phone every thirty minutes. He even wondered if there was something wrong with it until he tested its reception while using his office phone. He shook his head at his own childishness: Reid would either call or he wouldn’t. His long distance carrier had nothing to do with that. Four days after his return to D.C., he emerged from an ancient morgue at the Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office with Rossi and watched as his phone clicked back into the 4G network. The message icon blinked into view. He scrolled to his message screen and read it three times in succession.

_\-- Just got in. Trip was uneventful. Hope yours was as well. - S. --_

“Problem?”

Hotch looked up and saw Rossi peering at him from under a cocked eyebrow.

“Hard to say.” Hotch sighed and read the message again as if some emotional content would miraculously appear if he stared at it long enough.

“Well then… you’d better her call her back right away.” Rossi smirked.

“Pardon?”

“If it was case-related, you’d tell me, and since you can’t seem to figure out what the message means, I’d say someone is being deliberately inscrutable. If it were a friend, you’d just call them back and ask what they meant. Instead, you’re standing there trying to pull subtext out of a hundred and forty-character statement. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Dave, you are truly annoying at times.”

“Don’t be an ass, Aaron.” Rossi chuckled, blowing off the insult. “Call her back. Take it from a guy who’s been exactly where you’re standing right now.”

“I doubt that you’ve been in _this situation_ before…”

Rossi waved him off and headed towards the SUV. “Being stubborn will only make it worse, my friend. Wait and see at your own risk. Call her back.”

\---

It took Hotch another full day before he worked up the nerve to call Reid’s number. When he did, all he got was voicemail. He left an oddly hollow, cringe-worthy message and hoped that Reid would return his call.

They were called to a case in Florida and as he descended the jetway to the tarmac in the sweltering heat, his message icon blinked again. This time it was a voice message.

_Sorry I missed your call. Everything’s fine here. Perhaps I’ll try again later…_

“C’mon, Reid!” Hotch grumbled under his breath.

Morgan turned back to look at him in concern. Everyone on the team knew about his sudden trip to Nevada but no one had asked him about it yet. Sometimes he hated his team’s policy of non-interference that covered all of their silent wondering and private meddling. It was disingenuous as well as surprisingly transparent coming from a group of people trained to root out deception. His anger rose in him suddenly and then subsided just as quickly as he realized that they picked up this habit from him. No one was better at freezing people out while secretly picking people apart to get at what they didn’t want anyone else to see. He frowned at his phone, shoved it into his suit jacket and then jogged his way towards Morgan and the SUV loaned from the Tampa field office.

“Everything okay?” Morgan’s eyebrows quirked.

“Yes, everything’s fine.” 

He breezed past Morgan and felt a little sick when he saw that his colleague bought his lie completely. Before he might not have noticed it, but after Nevada, things like that stuck in his craw. He kept hearing Reid’s words about willful denial and the creeping entropy that would slowly erode his ability to lead. He didn’t want to lie about this any more and yet, as soon as he returned, he slid back into his old habits. What was stopping him from turning to his team in the back of the SUV and declaring that he was in love and that he might have ruined it, which was causing him to question everything? Why couldn’t he turn to Dave or Morgan and ask them to step in for him because he was too compromised by his personal life to give his full attention to the case at hand? The problem was still _him_. Reid was wrong about his emotions changing with absence, but he was right on the money when he profiled Hotch as slipping back into old routines once they were separated.

Damn him.


	13. Chapter 13

The case dragged on for eight days and ended in a shootout and a dead UnSub. Some might call that a win, but it just left Hotch drained. In the process, he had left three voicemails and missed two more calls from Reid. The situation was bordering on hilarious if it didn’t amp up his anxiety with every missed call.

He dragged himself into his house and, for once, Jessica took one look at him and didn’t launch into some sort of parental tirade. She took his go bag from him gently and headed towards the laundry room with it.

“He might still be awake, Aaron.” She whispered and nodded upstairs.

Hotch peered into his son’s room and watched as Jack struggled to make himself seem more alert. He rubbed his eyes furiously as he sat up amongst his stuffed dinosaurs and X-Men action figures.

“Hi Daddy.”

“It’s late. You should be asleep.” He smiled as he took a seat on the edge of Jack’s racecar bed.

“I wanted to see you.” Jack yawned.

“I know that I haven’t been around much lately. I’m sorry, buddy.”

“You need a vacation.”

Hotch laughed. “Maybe I do. Maybe we should go somewhere… got any ideas?”

“Somewhere where you won’t be sad.”

Hotch’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. “Do I look sad to you?”

“Yep.” Jack nodded and yawned again. “Like you did after Mommy died. Did someone die?”

Hotch hardly knew what to say. “No, Jack, no one died.”

“Then why aren’t you happy?”

Hotch watched the worry creep into his son’s face and was overwhelmed with revulsion and self-loathing. _Look at what you’re doing to your son. How long has he been carrying your worries as his own?_ He reached out and pulled Jack into his chest, rocking slowly and stroking his pale hair.

“Oh, buddy, I’m sorry. Sometimes grown-ups get sad and it’s hard to shake it. Have you been worrying about this a lot?”

Jack’s head nodded against Hotch’s chest and his heart seized a little. “You should’ve told me.”

“Why are you sad, Daddy?” Jack mumbled into his chest.

Hotch took a deep breath. “Because I miss someone.”

“Is it Mommy?”

“I will always miss Mommy.”

Jack was quiet for a full minute, then he squirmed in Hotch’s arms. “Is it Uncle Spence?”

Hotch looked down at Jack. “Why do you think its Uncle Spence?”

“Aunt Jess said that you went to visit him, but when you came back you were sadder. He’s been gone a long time and you’ve been sad a long time too. He used to be around a lot.”

Hotch looked into Jack’s eyes and felt something in him break for good. “Yes, I miss Uncle Spence. I miss him a lot, Jack.”

“Me too.” Jack rested his head against his father’s chest again. “Couldn’t you just tell him that?”

Hotch smiled sadly as he kissed the top of Jack’s head. “I could try.”

“When you go away and you call and tell me you miss me…” Jack yawned hugely. “It always makes me feel better.”

“I’m glad, buddy.” Hotch scooped up Jack and laid him out along the length of the bed again. “’Cause I miss you tons when I go away.”

Jack’s eyes started to droop as another yawn overcame him. “I bet Uncle Spence misses you too.”

“That’d be nice to hear.” Hotch said genuinely as he tucked Jack in. “Now go to sleep - it’s a school night.”

“Maybe he’d come to see us if you told him…” Jack drifted for a minute or two and then his face went slack and his fingers uncurled around Hotch’s hand as he slipped into sleep.

Hotch sat on the edge of his bed and watched Jack for almost an hour. Reid had been right about this too: he was hurting his son and was completely unaware of it. That was going to stop right now. He turned out the light in his son’s room, stood and walked out into the darkened hallway. He fished out his phone and dialed without looking at the keypad. He waited for the tone - he wasn’t expecting anything else this time - and spoke.

“We keep missing each other. Let’s stop doing that. I don’t like how we left things in Vegas and I want a chance to clear that up. Please call me back - I’ll be waiting.”


	14. Chapter 14

Hotch watched the rain run down the length of his office windows. It was remarkably hypnotic and it was this everyday sorcery to which he ascribed his distraction rather than his emotional exhaustion or the somewhat impenetrable tech-speak that was the essence of Garcia’s latest budget request. Usually, he secretly enjoyed his funding meetings with Garcia because she could make almost anything fun (and she brought cookies), but between the rain and periodic glances at the cell phone on his desk, he hadn’t caught a single word. He blinked and tried to recall what it was like to be the guy in charge.

“…thinks he’s dead, but really he’s just in a love nest with Catwoman.”

“Pardon?” Hotch scowled in confusion.

“Oh, _there_ you are…” Garcia smiled. “I was just telling you the plot of the last Batman film, since you didn’t seem interested in either my budget request or the latest Kardashian gossip.” 

“Sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “You know how much I love your Kardashian updates.”

Garcia smiled at him and took a cookie from the open tin on his desk. She nudged the tin towards him and he relented. Chocolate chip and ginger… he wondered how she came up with such an improbably delicious combination.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately - zoning out.” She said.

“I know.” He took another cookie from the tin.

“Sir? May I speak freely?”

“Always, Garcia - you know that.”

“I’ve tried to be patient, sir.” She fidgeted in her seat a little. “You promised me that you’d explain everything when you got back, but that was weeks ago. And you are very distracted… much more so than before… What _happened_ in Las Vegas?”

This had been coming for a while, and he owed Garcia an explanation, if no one else. His eyes flicked to his phone again unconsciously.

“A few weeks ago the director of Bennington called the Unit looking for Reid. Diana Reid had died and they were having difficultly getting in touch with him.”

Garcia made an ‘oh’ sound and then covered her mouth with her hands.

“That’s when I came to see you.” Hotch continued. “I flew to Vegas and caught up with him and together we cleared up his mother’s estate.”

“Why didn’t he contact us?” Garcia seemed shaken. “He hasn’t kept in touch with any of us since he resigned… How did he seem to you?”

“Before Vegas I hadn’t spoken to him in a year - I’m not sure that I’m the best judge of his state of mind.” He sighed deeply. “Leaving the Unit has hurt him - I think that’s why he hasn’t contacted anyone here since. It’s just too painful for him.”

“But he _decided_ to leave…”

“He left because of me, Garcia.”

She stared for a moment. “I don’t understand. You two were always such good friends, such good partners…”

He focused on the colourful post-modern rings on her fingers. Her nail polish matched the frames of her glasses. She was doing something new with her hair, some sort of 40s style Victory Rolls which made her look more striking and unusual than normal. He thought about everything that came to mind when he saw her: technical genius, remarkably empathetic, joyous, loving, and protective of her extended family. If anyone would be sympathetic to his current dilemma, it would be her. It became clear to him that if he was going to break his secretive habits, telling Garcia would be an excellent first step - and she’d be gentle about it, he was certain.

“Hotch?” She lowered her voice and slid her hands across the desktop towards him.

He took a deep breath. “I have been, and continue to be, in love with Spencer Reid. He left a year ago because I was unwilling or unable to accept this fact, and after seven years, he didn’t have the resilience to keep ignoring it.” 

Garcia let out another unexpected ‘oh’. He reached out for her hand and she clasped it fiercely. “Did you… I mean, it’s none of my business, but…”

“Nothing ever happened between us. Ever. But we both knew that something had changed over time. We knew and did nothing to stop it or push it forward. You can’t really blame him for leaving…”

His voice caught and he stopped talking. It was harder than he thought; his guts were in tight knots and he was sweating. And this was Garcia, for christssakes. He wished that he were a freer man - if Reid had been a woman, he doubt that his apprehension would have been this extreme. Perhaps he was a little homophobic after all. Apparently, his life had an ironic sense of humour.

“But something’s different now, isn’t it?” She coaxed as he laid her other hand on top of his.

“Seeing him again in Vegas… yes, the situation has changed. I asked him to come back to D.C. but he refused saying that he didn’t believe that I was any more prepared to accept the consequences of a relationship than I was a year ago. Maybe he was right.”

“I’d say telling me all of this is a good start, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, it is, Penelope.” He smiled, happy that it had been her. “But it might be too little too late. I keep calling him but it doesn’t seem to do any good. I’m starting to think… that it would just be easier to let it go…”

“It’s not supposed to be easy, Aaron.” Garcia scolded. “Did you tell him you loved him?”

“Yes.”

“Did he say it back?”

“No.”

She nodded once and then fell silent for a moment. “Can you live without him? Be honest with yourself.”

Hotch didn’t have to mull it over. “No.”

“Then you do whatever you have to in order to get his attention. You get his brilliant ass on the phone and you _make him understand_ how you feel until he gets it. You probably scare the crap out of him, Hotch - did you ever think of that? I mean, he moved 2600 miles away to try and forget you. Those aren’t some idle feelings.”

Hotch sighed and hung his head. He hadn’t felt this tired in years. _Whatever you have to do…_ His eyes flicked to his phone again.

“I can help.” Garcia whispered. “I can spam his life until he has no choice but to call you back. Phone, email, work, home… you _know_ I can do it.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary…”

“Necessary, schmesessary. What’s the use in having an in-house hacker if you don’t avail yourself of the illegal benefits when you really need them, hmmm?”

Hotch raised his hand and was about to give Garcia a lecture on the F.B.I.’s ethics policy when his phone vibrated across his desk. They both looked at it, and then Garcia looked at him when she didn’t recognize the number. He did though.

“You tell him everything, Hotch, and you _make_ him believe it!” 

She squeezed his hand once more and then stood, departing faster than he had ever seen her move before. She winked and mouthed the words ‘tell him’ before she closed the office door behind her. He looked down at the phone as it continued to vibrate intermittently across his desk blotter. His hand shook as he reached out for it. He watched it hover in the air above and willed himself to be the man that he always wanted to be, to be the man that Reid could believe in. He had no idea how to do it but this might be his last chance to try. His hand snatched up the phone before he gave himself an opportunity to talk himself out of it.

“Hi.”

_Uh, hi. I thought that I might have missed you again._

“I was in a meeting with Garcia.”

_Oh._

Silence hung between them over the line. Hotch gritted his teeth and tried to arrange everything that he wanted to say into a convincing soliloquy. He used to be good at that sort of thing. Moments dragged and still he couldn’t muster a word. He felt the burning of all his inadequacies start to eat away at his insides. This wasn’t just lust - it wasn’t just adjusting to a new ‘lifestyle’ - it was _everything_. How do you tell someone that they’ve changed everything without sounding like a cheap pop song? He slammed his palm as quietly as he could onto his desk. Why was this so hard? Just _say something!_ He wanted this person in his life and he’d do anything to make that happen. What was the problem? He heard Jack’s voice in his head: _Couldn’t you just tell him?_

“Listen,” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad that I finally get to talk to you… I behaved like an ass at McCarran. There’s no apologizing for such behavior - I don’t blame you for not taking my exhortations at face value.”

_Aaron…_

“Please, just let me get through this, okay? I love you, Spencer, and I’ve let you down with that. You’ve tried your best and it’s never really worked out. You’ve sacrificed a lot - too much - and you have very little to show for it.”

Hotch paused and took a deep breath to stop his body from shaking. He hoped that Reid couldn’t hear it in his voice.

“So when I stood in that airport, all arrogant and hurt, and I asked you to make _another_ sacrifice, _another_ leap of faith, without a shred of evidence that it would work out any better this time than it had before… well, of course you would say ‘no’. It was foolish of me to expect otherwise.” 

He heard a sigh over the phone, but nothing more. His heart sank a little.

“But I’m telling you that my feelings won’t change. They haven’t changed since you left a year ago. I’m stuck here and I think that you are as well. So, we either stay stuck together, or stay stuck apart. I’m asking you to take one last chance and come back to D.C. If you do, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you glad that you did.”

The silence continued across the line.

“You know, Garcia just asked me if I could live without you - because if I could then I should just let all of this go…”

_You told Garcia?_

“Yes, I had to start somewhere. Why? Are you angry that I did?”

_No, just surprised._

He waited a moment to see if Reid would give him a little more. When nothing came, he closed his eyes and just kept pushing through it.

“When she asked me if I could live without you, my answer was an unequivocal no. Spence, give us one last chance to get this right - I know that we can. I owe you my life, and I intend to give it to you. Please take it. Please.”

So, it had come down to begging. If it worked then he’d take it, but the problem was that he didn’t think it had. That argument wouldn’t have convinced him if he were in Reid’s position. He waited for a response, his whole body shaking so hard that the hinges of his office chair were starting to squeak from it. The phone had an odd emptiness to it - beyond silence, just dead air. Hotch pulled it away from his ear to see if the call had been dropped. How embarrassing would that be? Pouring your heart out to a failed cellular tower. He had full reception. He glued the phone back to his ear as panic turned his twisted stomach into a very real nauseated threat.

“Spencer? Are you still there?”

There were soft noises coming through now, muffled and echoing in the way that only long distance communication could deliver. He was perplexed but also too terrified to hang up, so he waited until there was a scrape and a definite click, and he heard breathing once again across the line.

_Sorry about that. I couldn’t hold the phone and book the e-ticket at the same time._

“e-ticket?”

_American Airlines flight 267. I’ll be in D.C. two weeks from tomorrow._


	15. Chapter 15

SIX MONTHS LATER

 

“Hey.”

Hotch looked up and saw Reid’s bespeckled face peeking in through his office doorway. He saw Garcia with her specs for the new secure server spread out over Hotch’s desk and gave her a goofy grin.

“What are you conning him into buying you _this_ week?”

“Quad Opterons dedicated servers with SCSI drives, Doctor Nosy. And you’ll be thankful for them if you ever piss off Anonymous or a particularly skilled serial killer.”

“Sure, sure, Garcia. I bet that he’d buy you a grape-flavored unicorn if you set your heart on one.”

“They come in grape?” Hotch arched an eyebrow at Reid.

Reid smiled and leaned against the doorframe. He had recently gone back to wearing glasses and had become enamored with three-piece suits, though he usually jettisoned the jackets by midday. The overall effect was oddly nostalgic and strangely attractive; like a hipster version of _Mr. Smith Goes To Washington_. Reid’s nerd chic had always been a little disorienting for Hotch, but this new look stepped up the whole business a great deal. After he mentioned how distracting it was, Reid had done nothing but smile. The next day he came home with six more suits, and Hotch had realized his mistake. He tried to hide his smile now as his eyes flicked over the trim blue form lounging in the doorway.

“What’s up?” He said.

“I’m done. Just wanted to know what your schedule was… Morgan has offered me a lift.”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay,” Reid nodded. “I’ll tell Morgan to leave without me. Or maybe I should tell him that a certain technical superwoman could use the ride instead…”

“You _could_ let that slip, I suppose…” Garcia fluttered.

“Will do.” He smiled again and then nodded to Hotch. “Come meet me at my office when you’re done here.”

Hotch nodded once and Reid left. Garcia stared at the empty doorway with an odd look.

“Something wrong?” He asked.

“You two…”

“Us two, what?”

“Well… I gotta be honest… when you first told me about the two of you - all of the obstacles between you guys - I sorta expected you to be… more intense as a couple. Pardon me for being so blunt, Hotch, but you guys are kinda ordinary.”

Hotch stared at Garcia and tried not to think about the blowjob that Reid had given him in the parking garage three days earlier that had been so intense he’d lost the power of speech for a full ten minutes afterwards. Extremely ordinary indeed.

“We try to remain professional at work.”

“Of course you do, even though there’s no impropriety now that Reid officially reports to Rossi and not you…” Garcia waved the comment away. “I’m just saying that your story was so _romantic_ , you know? Star-crossed lovers separated by fate and circumstance only to be brought back together again by tragedy and an undeniable pull to one another… this is classic stuff.”

“I wouldn’t wax about us _that_ poetically, Garcia.”

“My point is - now look at you two: discussing schedules and carpooling… it’s only been six months. I don’t think that anyone here has even caught you holding hands. If you hadn’t told everyone that you were together, nobody would guess that you were more than good friends.”

“That’s what grown-ups do. Not everything can be a sweeping epic, and I’m mightily thankful for that. I’m too old for all-consuming romance.”

Garcia gave him a dubious look. “What are your plans tonight?”

“I believe that it’s laundry night.”

“I rest my case, Hotch.”

Garcia collected her server blueprint and folded it neatly before heading for the door.

“We aren’t finished here…” He started.

“You’re Reid’s lift… get out of here and maybe you’ll manage to squeeze in some fooling around during the rinse cycle. Live dangerously.”

Garcia winked at him and then left to hunt down Morgan, with whom she would presumably flirt ‘dangerously’. He leaned back in his chair and smirked to himself. Reid was right: he would give her a unicorn if she asked no matter how inappropriate she insisted on being around him. He quickly powered down his computer and shrugged into his jacket, and then set off in search of his carpooling buddy. When he arrived at Reid’s office, Hotch found him typing away furiously. He slipped inside and shut the door that locked automatically behind him.

“I thought that you were done.”

Reid looked up, smiled and then removed his glasses. “There’s always more to do, and you said that you’d be ten minutes…”

“Garcia kicked me out.” He reached out and casually pulled the blinds across the window that looked out over the bullpen. “She gave me a lecture on how boring we are as a couple.”

“Really.” Reid seemed amused.

“Yes, apparently, we showed much romantic promise in the beginning, but carpooling and doing laundry on a Thursday night falls very short of the ideal and we have become a disappointment to her.”

Hotch came to stand in front of Reid in his office chair. He placed his hands on the armrests and then slowly lowered himself down. Reid reached up for a kiss as Hotch slid down between his legs stretching out along his chest. Hotch felt Reid’s fingers in his hair, massaging and pulling him closer. Hotch’s hand moved down the front of Reid’s vest, outlining his contours along tailored seams and silver buttons.

“How could we have let the love slip away?” Reid breathed as he moved his tongue against Hotch’s lips.

“It’s probably my fault.” Hotch smiled and let Reid in. “I have a poor track record in this area.”

Reid pushed Hotch’s jacket off his shoulders and Hotch shrugged until he heard it hit the floor. Those long fingers then started to work his tie, and once free of that started to liberate him from his dress shirt. Laundry day was Hotch’s favorite day of the week and he flushed a little when he remembered that he had started fantasizing about this moment at breakfast this morning. Sometimes, what they had grabbed a hold of him and he had about as much control over it as a teenaged boy. It always kept him on his toes, and it was never, ever boring. Hotch’s hands wanted some of Reid but the vest was fighting him. He broke away from Reid’s lips and looked down at the chest rising and falling under the prison of his bespoke suit.

“Spencer, these _suits_ …” He murmured in frustration and lust.

“You just make it worse on yourself when you complain like that.” Reid’s teeth found Hotch’s earlobe. “It tells me that I’m doing something right.”

“When it comes to this,” Hotch ground himself between Reid’s thighs. “You’ve always done it right.”

Reid’s fingers left off Hotch’s buttons and instead flew down his chest until the vest was vanquished and discarded to the floor. He then undid the top three buttons of his dress shirt before yanking it over his head and tossing it away too.

“Well, then maybe Garcia’s wrong.” Reid caught Hotch’s mouth again and worked it until Hotch whimpered. “Maybe there’s hope for us yet.”

They smiled against each other’s lips, pressing as close as they could while fumbling against buttons and zippers and uncooperative office furniture. It would end as it always did: with a few moments of exquisite clarity, renewals of faith and devotion, and a pile of rumpled and stained clothing in need of washing. This time, Reid pulled Hotch close and whispered something new: that he was glad he’d taken that last leap of faith. He was relieved that the fear he had fought in coming back had resulted in something less ordinary, something hoped for but never really expected. Hotch closed his eyes tightly and gave silent thanks to whatever had roused him from his sleep midway through his life. 

“I was afraid that you’d lose interest, eventually…” Hotch murmured into Reid’s shoulder.

Reid looked at him then. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t forgive me for relapsing.”

“Are you serious? I think that I’d forgive you just about anything, up to and including murder.” He quickly raised a finger. “Don’t take that as blank permission though…”

“Duly noted.”

Reid smiled, sat up and began to collect their clothes. Hotch remained still and watched those lean muscles stretching and changing shape with casual fluidity. He was happy to realize that Reid had gained a little weight in six months; there was such a thing as too skinny. He thought back to the crappy Vegas hotel room and how frightened he had been then - Reid’s detachment, the fresh track marks, the sense of hopeless finality that hung over them both… He didn’t really understand how they had made it from there to here.

“Spence?”

“Hmmm?”

“What changed your mind about coming back? You never explained and I guess that I was too scared to ask at the time.”

Reid put down the clothes that he had collected and then sat on the floor facing Hotch, leaning back against his desk. He was quiet for a minute and then he sighed.

“I was on the fence at McCarran. I couldn’t help it - you made me realize that running from this hadn’t done either of us any favors. But I had very real concerns about your ability to change… all I really wanted was some time to clear my head, to see what you’d do once you’d returned to your life in D.C. …”

“But I took your response as a rejection.” Hotch shook his head - he’d been an idiot.

“I thought that I had my answer then. I went back to California profoundly depressed and unsure about my next move. The only thing that I was sure of was that my future wouldn’t include you.”

It was sobering to understand that Reid had essentially written him off. His chest tightened sharply and he absently rubbed it to calm himself; after all, it hadn’t turned out that way, had it?

“Well, then… what did I do to change your opinion?”

“You told Garcia about us.”

“That’s _it_?”

“It wasn’t just the fact that you told her, it was the way that you talked about it - as if it was natural that you would seek advice about a relationship from a friend.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“You wouldn’t, Aaron. You’ve always kept your personal life tightly nailed down. You barely let anyone see anything about yourself that you haven’t orchestrated for effect. But you exposed us to Garcia without reservation… and without shame. That’s when I knew that something had fundamentally changed in you. It’s what I had been waiting for.”

Reid sat quietly and watched as his words sunk in. If Hotch hadn’t mentioned Garcia… His chest tightened again, catching his breath and causing him to cough. Reid leaned forward and placed a warm hand on Hotch’s bare ankle.

“Don’t. The ‘what ifs’ will drive you nuts, Aaron…” Hotch looked up and Reid smiled. “Let’s go home and be ‘boring’ for Jack and Jess. She’s supposed to drop him off at seven-thirty, remember?”

Reid gently tossed Hotch’s clothes in his direction and they both began to dress in silence. Hotch was fastening his belt when he looked over and saw Reid buttoning himself into that troublesome vest again.

“I love you, you know…” He whispered.

Reid turned and then slowly walked over to Hotch. He reached out and buttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, smoothing away as many wrinkles as he could with warm sweeps of his palms.

“I do. And now you know _exactly_ how much you are loved in return.”

Hotch couldn’t stop the grin that took hold of him then. Perhaps he wasn’t too old for all-consuming love after all.


End file.
